So, It's Going To Be War, Is It?
by a vestige of peace
Summary: Ginny has decided to give insanity a try. Draco has no idea what has taken hold of the littlest Weasley, but after a chance encounter at the 3rdfloor girls bathroom, he decides that it's going to be war. T for hateful language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but a laptop and pair of very shiny leg warmers.**

**Author's Note: This is just a mini sneak preview. Its 2 am... I'll have more soon.**

_"Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot."_

"the Adventures of Huckleberry Fin", Mark Twain

**That Sick Bastard**

It was always the same cursed bathroom.

Why? Why did every unfortunate chance encounter she ever had, always happen here? Aside from the fact that it was inhabited by one of the castle's most annoying ghosts, the third floor girl's bathroom had nothing special about it. Five stalls lined on either side of its walls. It had the typical marble sinks of all the Hogwarts bathrooms; lined with the same, somewhat tarnished, mirrors and decorated taps, and soap dispensers. The floor was always flooded. The walls were dank and old.

There was nothing about its unassuming presence to ever suggest just how appallingly cursed the place really was.

Sitting contemplatively over the unconscious body of Draco Malfoy, Ginny wondered, darkly, if it was the lingering darkness of Salazar Slytherin from the chamber directly below where she sat.

-Or directly below where Malfoy lay, she corrected mentally, a wistful smile touching her lips.-

Yes, that theory was certainly possible. Particularly since the other possibility would have to be the presence of Myrtle that lured all these boys of various pubescent degrees to storm towards its watery stalls. And _that_was pretty unlikely.

Just off the top of her head Ginny could remember at least half a dozen boys who had invaded the lavatory's woefully unwarded walls. There was Harry, and Ron- both of whom seemed to have developed quite a fetish for the place, over the years. Then there was Tom, Professor Lockhart_, Malfoy_- Ginny have his limp body a nudge. _Stupid Malfoy,_she thought, momentarily forgetting her list and shaking her head in disgust, _his mania with the bathroom is almost developing to Harry's proportions._

Sniffing, Ginny decided that it was sad how the two nemeses always ended up plagued with the same obsessions.

_So much for the two houses being on opposing ends of the spectrum._Nothing like testostrone, apparently, for some inter-house commonality.

Rolling her eyes, Ginny got back to her list. She ticked off Dean, whom, with a short grin, she remembered bringing herself on a particularly eventful nightly escapade. And she knew that Professor Snape had been here at least a couple of times with Professor Sinistra, after Myrtle had taken to singing "Sevey and Sinny sitting in a tree…" up and down the corridor, to whoever would listen. Weighing the issue of Professor Sinistra's gender, she thought the flaky mustache made her man enough, too. That made eight people!

What the hell was with this washroom and so many boys? Wasn't there a boy's one nearby?

Even Salazar Slytherin had been caught up by the lure. Why else had he built the pride of his legacy, underneath the stone floors of a _girl's bathroom?_

The question had baffled her ever since she had regained her sanity, during the summer of her second year, when she had first realized just how ridiculous the whole charade of the chamber of secrets was, _Tom Riddle, you tossing pervert,_she had thought. For how else could he have possibly unearthed the secret location, if not during a fit of voyeuristic passion? And then she had thought: _EW,_as the implications about Salazar had come up.

For some reason, she had always imagined Slytherin to have been gay. Not because he was evil, of course. But it had just kind of always been an assumption floating in the back of her head. That Gryffindor loved Rowana, and Slytherin was just jealous because secretly he wanted to be more than just "BFF" with the burly Gryff. But Gryffindor, being the brave, chivalrous and somewhat daft to the subtitles of life (rather like Harry, actually) had not really clued in to his dark friend's strife…

But as the question of the girl's bathroom and Plague of the Pervs had come up again, Ginny had found all her previously held fantasies about the Hogwarts founders crash beyond _reparo_, only to have her old suspicions about all men being nothing but zombies controlled by highly intelligent sperm, reaffirmed.

_Stupid Slytherin,_she thought with contempt. _Why wasn't just being evil good enough? You had to be a pedophile on top of everything._Grimacing in disgust at her own speculations, Ginny suddenly understood the allegory of the basilisk. _A snake under the girls… ugh._Ginny shifted in her seat on the curve of the blonde's back. _That_sick _bastard._

Speaking of sick bastards, Ginny turned her attention back to the beaten down 6th year on the ground. With the combination ass kicking and Bat-Boogey Hex, he had gone down fairly easily. She could not quite suppress her feeling of pride, and had the strangest urge to buy a camera and start a scrapbook of her own heroisms.

_Girls Lavatory! You shall be plagued by these hoodlums no more!_A mental Ginny proclaimed in her head, standing on top of the one working toilet, hair flying like a torch of chivallry.

There was groan from underneath her, and she was immediately snapped out of her revere. In her head, the glowing Ginny on the toilet pedestal tripped and fell over. Reacting by instinct, Ginny attempted to fix the problem by whacking a hand across the tuft of albino hair.

"Shut up, Malfoy, or I'll change my mind about being done with you." At least, that was how hero's in old Mafia movies did it.

Draco Malfoy, self-proclaimed god of all things Sexy made an inhuman sound in response. Ginny took it as a combination growl and yelp and frowned.

There was a silent moment where no one moved- Draco re-associating himself with his numb limbs while Ginny waited for what came next- then, struggling against the firm weight on the small of his back, and his twisted arms in her grip, Draco lifted his head from the soggy ground and spat out toilet water.

Ginny barked an evil laugh.

She discovered that, strangely, she felt very little remorse for his difficulties breathing, and made her grip on him tighter.

"Fuck- _Weasley_? Is that you? By god if you don't get off my back right now-"

Ginny ground her weight onto his back a little more, blissfully unaware of the absolute wantonness of this action, and leaned forward until she was partially rested on his twisted arms. "-You'll what, Malfoy? Your wand is in the toilet, your arms bound and in my hands, and your face is still pasty and disfigured- what are you going to do?"

Twisting his neck around until it looked painful, Draco shot the vile woman a deathly glare.

"Weasley get off me right now, or I swear you will live to regret it."

"Yeah, Malfoy? What will you do, sneak up on me in the bathroom, try to stun me, and then get hexed off your ass and knocked out on the floor, again?" Ginny gave another scoffing, villainous laugh. "I don't think you are in any position to be giving threats here."

"Take your filthy, freckly hands off of me, Weasley!" Malfoy's strangled cry insisted. When Ginny, brow lifted at the audacity, said nothing immediately back, he took heart and continued: "And if you take this bind away and give me my wand, I promise I will only make your life miserable until you graduate."

Feeling a sneer automatically twist her mouth, Ginny once more released one of her hands from their clutch, to smack him, harder this time. There was a slapping sound as his cheek hit the water.

"You're not calling the shots here, _Malfarret_. And this is exactly what you get, you dirty little prat, for frequenting the _girl's lavatory_" she unconsciously leaned forwards, pressing her breasts flat against shoulder blades again, in her agitation. "_A_nd more importantly, _I don't bloody have freckles on my hands!"_Having gotten that out of her system, she shot back up so fast that she felt her butt rock on the middle of his back. There was an _ooff_as the wind got knocked out of him a little, but she paid no mind.

"Stupid prat!" Ginny went on, "just for that, I'm not going to unbind you at all, so you will just have to stay here until someone else comes in and decides to take pity."

"Weasley… don't you dare!" She could tell he was trying to sound as threatening as was possible with pooling sewage threatening to enter his mouth. When she didn't answer, the Slytherin's efforts to break through his binds became earnest. Sensing that her victory was attained, Ginny eased herself slowly off him. She watched carefully to make sure that the body bind hex was still satisfactorily in place, then stepping around him she peaked into one of the stalls. To her relief she found the wand she had _expelliarmus_ed dangling on the seat but not quite fallen into the toilet water. Feeling a triumphant grin stretch across her face, Ginny thanked whatever gods had decided that Myrtle should not be diving into the toilets today, and picked up the wand delicately.

Brimming with confidence, she threw the wand up and caught it from the air.

Re-emerging from the stall with the seven inch stick twirling in her fingers, it did not take too long before Draco realized what she had acquired. Eyes on her fiddling fingers, his face went beet red and Ginny's heart squealed with an avenged joy.

"Weasley! Oh_, fucking_ _hell_- give me that! Give me-"

Ginny, imperious look intact, merely stepped on his rigid thigh, and headed for the door-

"AH! YOU, BITCH!-"

There was squeak as she opened the door.

"HEY!- Weasley? WEASLEY!"

But Ginny was already out the door, and jogging away with her ego flying high, a sense of justice crowning her head, and the urgency that befitted any careful sibling of the Weasley twins ushering her steps towards the blissful sanctuary of the Gryffindor common-room.

**COMING UP:** Draco plots from the heart. Ginny theorizes. And Harry realizes something deep about himself.

**Review, review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The characters and setting and names and general geniusness may not belong to me, but their ludicrous theories and spur-of-the-moment schemes are MINE, ALL MINE!**

**Author's Note: This chapter was longer, with a Draco part attached to it, but I had to cut it because it was kind of starting to look like an infected appendix. So, I'm sorry, but it shall all show up next chapter :).

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**Clark Kent meets Scarlet Fever**

Ginny Weasley had a new theory.

Settled broodingly in a shadowy comfy-chair in a far corner of the common room, she worked on it in her mind.

…_Yes,yes… and there are the pipes from the chamber of secrets all around the castle… _She remembered Harry mentioning that he had heard the snake whispering as it had glided behind the stone. So, _clearly,_ the walls were not very sound proof.

She narrowed her unfocused eyes in thought. So, if the hissing had seeped _out, _what was to say that the many and varied conversations that buzzed the halls daily, didn't also seep _in. _

Ginny had was first been snapped onto this line of thought when, a mere day after what had happened in the third floor girl's lavatory… aka Myrtle's lair, the whole school had burst with talk of a mysterious girl who had kicked Draco Malfoy's unfortunate, aristocratic arse, and left him for dead in the haunted washroom.

At first, Ginny had almost let it all out and given herself away by replying that he had not, in fact, been left for dead at all, but only bound and kindly lain for the next person who was in need of a moral uplifting to do their "good deed" of the day, and rescue him. But no sooner had she quelled this particular temptation, than she had been bombarded with a whole series of accounts of what had '_actually _taken place'.

Suddenly, in the amount of time it took for her to get out of bed, get dressed and walk down for breakfast, Ginny had already been assured that Malfoy's skin was now an unpleasant shade of lime, and that he now had tentacles sprouting from the ends of his hands, and was prone to singing long verses of a Slovanian ode to the ocean whenever someone addressed him. Far from keeping her mouth shut, Ginny found herself completely struck dumb with bewilderment.

Not knowing what had become of her forsaken victim, Ginny had actually found herself believing in them. She had panicked and mumbled every prayer she ever knew. Walking past the great hourglasses of the house points had been the hardest, as her gut had twisting and turned in guilt. Well, not so much guilt perhaps for what she had done- no, she had fared through all that quite happily, and returned to her dorm as chipper as Christmas morning- but if she were caught,_ if anyone found out- if Ron- Dumbledore- no, _mum _found out! _She would be locked in the attic with ghoul until some distant descendant of Ron's found her rotting corpse!

She had quailed with terror. Rooted to the spot for an endless minute, outside the portrait hole-

But then, the parts of the narrative which concerned_ her_ began to swirl around. And the second Ginny heard Hannah Abbot solemnly say to her friend, "Melody heard it was troll," she knew that she was safe, and a new fear began to trickle down her spine. Looking around, apprehensively, she suddenly saw the dangerous gleam in the eyes of her fellow students that she always found whenever some horrid rumour about Harry was about to circulate. It was that gleam of uncontrollable, all-consuming gossip. And she could see the wheels behind each of their heads beginning to turn, picking up a stray tale here and sewing on their own additions there...

Slightly wary of this new and surprising entrance into the land of the awake and living, Ginny had gingerly placed herself at the end of the table for breakfast, as far from the manic hype as possible.

Around her, the insanity had purged on.

Soon, there were accounts that actually included eye witnesses (like Ernie Macmillan who swore that he had heard high pitched screams and a distinct _crucio, _from behind the closed doors). Others held more creative themes. There was even one that paraded a cult of female mermaids, who had allegedly leaped out of the various tapestries and stained glass portraits in the Hogwarts bathrooms, to come to the defense of the lavatory's chastity. and had kicked the boy's ass.

Most of the school's male population, however, who had been inside the washroom and knew for a fact that it's unwarded doors had long lost their "chastity", did not make much of this theory. Not that Ginny could have blamed them- if there was ever a sluttish chamber, that one was definitely it. How many boys, over the years had it seen, and let in beyond its gaping entrance?

So these boys, mostly from the higher grades, substituted that particular one for another account instead(also eye witnessed, this time by none other than George Weasley), which claimed that Harry Potter had polyjuiced himself into Millicent Bulstrode and led the poor Malfoy there for a final Battle of the Houses. In this version, they had actually been transported to the Chamber of Secrets, where Malfoy had been possessed by Salazar Slytherin, and Harry forced to wield the sword of Gryffindor to fight him.

Somewhat deadpanned, Ginny could not help but sense that this version sounded suspiciously like another, much more real tale.

However, the rip-off-ed-ness was easily overlooked by the frenzied students, who were so taken by this particular account, that an hour later it was the most celebrated account in the Great hall. So much so, in fact, that mid way through breakfast, Harry had found himself suffering from a sudden attack of claustrophobia, with a gleaming crown of transfigured sausages circling over his head, and stumbling over his seat as he tried to make a mad dash for freedom, while, two tables away, Milicent Bulstrode was forced to make the fastest dive of her life. Incidentally, the dive was also _for _her life, as a sudden fleet of pointed paper-notes were zeroed in and shot at her from seemingly the world at large, all of them containing thank yous and congratulations on her recently developed scalp condition, which had apparently been the reason Harry had been successful in his polyjuicing adventures.

Heart thumping in terror, Ginny had followed close behind Harry and resolved to go to class early. But the peace was not to be had, even in the halls. At one point, as she had exited Charms with Luna, she saw Zacharias Smith prancing about, spewing forth some tale about sighting Dumbledore leaving the washroom vicinity with a pair of very dirty socks, followed by a transfigured patronous of a redheaded girl- which, he suspected, was surely used to trip Malfoy up, while the old wizard had made a shady escape.

At which point, Ginny had resolved that somewhere amid the buzz of all of these rumours, every lesson about the laws of transfiguration and things within the realm of possibility had completely vanished from her fellow students' minds.

It was at this, brief instance of reprieve, when her fear had slipped and failed her, that Ginny had realized the problem behind this maddness. Sure, everyone had gone crazy. Sure, they had gotten nothing so far right. But what Ginny _really_ couldn't figure out was how the word had gotten around so incredibly fast.

In fact, there should have been no word to spread at all, no matter at what pace, since she had not even told one person since it had happened_. _And since she was fairly sure that it could not have been Malfoy's pompous little mouth that had given it away, she had been left stumped, for the whole day, with nothing to do but visit her oldest, and most favorite of past times: theorizing.

So, she had come up with a theory. A "hypothesis", Hermione would call it, but a healthy direction into the realms of "theory", nonetheless. She had decided, that there was a rare breed of _gossipus pixiei, _that inhabited the dingy pipelines of Hogwarts castle, which had hitherto gone undetected. _Precisely like the basilisk._

Those pipes, Ginny had argued (to herself), had been around for a _long, long time; _and that basilisk had also been asleep for a _long, long time. _Purely, by law of nature, no space went vacant for that long, without a new species developing a niche there. And if there was any kind of niche to be made out of an area flooded with the scandalous accounts of too many teenagers, it was surely some kind of agency of rumor enhancement.

_Like the pollen and the bee! _Ginny thought, struck by the enormity of her epiphany.

Whenever an event took place, in one part of the castle- no matter how isolated, they would pick it up and germinate it throughout as many halls as possible. It made sense. It was a magical world, after all. _Anything is possible, so why, fricking, not? _was her motto_.  
_

But, she did concede that perhaps someone might have noticed if every time a calamity hit the hormonal population, the walls burst into speech. So, it was at this stalling point in her unfolding theorum that Ginny had finally fallen, exhausted, into the most removed and oblivious chair in the commonroom, shadowed by the drapes that hung around the window, and gnawing at her knuckles.

Flickering a momentary gaze at her surroundings, she concluded that there was definitely nothing she was missing on the social front. From the stupid, vacant expressions on their faces, she could practically lip-sync the conversations. Tuning herself in just to prove herself right, she wondering, if they were still going on about the Malfoy incident.

"…no one has seen him anywhere. I wonder how he's doing…"

"…completely deserved it."

"You're right, he was pretty hot. But after the incident, I don't know. I think it's the ear-hair, for me, you know?..."

Ginny's suspicious expression turned sour. _Is there _anyone_ in this entire school__, _she wondered,_ who has gotten over the stupid ferret's woes already?_

As if to answer her, a new voice joined the hullabaloo with a swing of the portrait hole.

"…and he had _red _eye shadow, Parv! _Red, _I tell you! Who even wears red anymore?! So I was like, Sesshoumaru, I know you're _foreign _, but that's like, totally not cool…"

Ginny rolled her eyes at this voice. She did not even need to turn around and look to know who that was.

Experiencing a moment of intense self-pity, at the stupidity she was forced to share her air with, Ginny returned her gaze back to the flickering of the fire through the throngs of obscuring arms and legs. Right, her theory.

Ginny tried to imagine how she would overcome this little 'hindrance to survival', if she was a _gossipus pixie. _Somewhere along her line of pondering and an adjacent thought about the night being too cold for them to all be out by the lake or something, it all clicked into place, and like a spotlight from Heaven, it came to her.

_Of course! _They did it when everyone was asleep!

Ginny gasped. "Oh my god, those little buggers."

A group of sixth years sitting to her left shifted to look at her. Caught in the passionate embrace of her own genius mind, however, Ginny paid them no heed.

Of course! The _pixiei_ would wait the day out, and once everyone was asleep, these undiscovered creatures of old would station themselves within the dormitories. Ginny imagined a band of red lipped, black pixies, with little decorative whips beginning a chorus of lenitive recitation on top of each bed in the castle. Oddly enough, it did not strike her as strange at all. They would scourge their vulnerable minds with all of the freshest and juiciest, gossip-worthy tidbits of the day, when all their barriers were down.

_Like influenza on HIV victims.._., to nip at their minds for the days and months to come.

Rather demontor-ish, she thought, although to a much smaller scale. They probably fed off malicious, gossipy excitement, and the relish of senseless chaos.

_That, or they just really like the sound of girly, high-pitched squeals. _

It was the only reason, that Ginny could imagine, why every time something happened in Hogwarts- _The Next Day, _that would be all that was talked about, anywhere anyone went.

Like the year before, when the Quibbler had been banned, (due to the clashing interests of The Truth, and Umbridge(_that vile, toad of a bitch)_'s unfortunate inferiority complex), and the whole school knew the article, word-by-word anyways.

Or when Ginny had held Michael Corner's hand for a day- _a day! _And _The Next Day_, she had been chased down by Leslie Mcconaughey from Hufflepuff for "everything that happened, from the first look, to sensuous kiss, tell me _everything!_".

_-_Or, Ginny suddenly remembered, her mental prototype pulling out a dark and thunderous cloud overhead- the time when Malfoy had read Ginny's valentine's letter to Harry in front of a -_n_ _infinitesimally small- _group of people, and none of her friends had anything funnier to talk about for that entire year.

To her own annoyance, Ginny felt a wave of heat flood her face at the memory.

That pointy bastard.

Her thoughts once more turning on the pathetic 6th year, Ginny felt the usually keen frequencies of her emotions give a confused wobble. They began with a dangerous dip into anger, extracted from an abundant supply of humiliating memories, then lifted up to happiness at the consistent memories of snitches he had lost over the years to Harry, back down to deep hatred at the memory of his father's scheming and the diary which had landed in her little cauldron, and back to pity that his father was now in jail. It teetered like this for an eternal split-second more, before it finally settle at the awful base of all humiliations- when he had read that scrap of her eleven year old heart and shredded it to her face.

Well, at least, she had shown him, she told herself grimly. There was something to be said about a Weasley who had literally, _sat _on top of a Malfoy. The thought made her so overwhelmingly satisfied that she nearly stood up and screamed "_It was me! I did it! I was the girl!_" but with difficulty, she managed to maintain a cool composure.

_I am Zen, _she thought to herself. _No hate, no sudden bursts of self-affection. _Then- unable to resist a small evil smile, she modified- _Alright, maybe not Zen. _She didn't think she could lay off the meat, anyways.

_I am… Clark Kent, _she decided. She got a brief revisiting of her Flaming Ginny on the toilet-pedestal image, and her smile widened.

Yes, she conceded, unconsciously nodding, _I can be Clark Kent. _

Brain idling along this new avenue, she thought now she just needed a name for this alter-ego of hers and it would be perfect.

_Scarlet Fevah! _her mental prototype proclaimed.

Ginny giggled.

There was another uneasy shuffling from her left.

"Uhm, hey Gin," came a baffled voice from the left. She was just about snap "what?" when she looked up, and found herself caught in the brilliant light of an emerald gaze. The reply stuck in her trachea and throat tightening in nervousness, she settled for a raised eyebrow.

"Er… is something wrong?"

She blinked. _Something wrong… something wrong… _As her suddenly fogged brain struggled to translate this combination of iambs and syllables from the deep lustrous sound, Ginny stared stupidly at Harry.

"Ignore her Harry, she gets weird like that sometimes," cut in the rude, sonorous sounds of her delightful, youngest brother's voice. "She's probably plotting some poor souls death, or something. You don't know what goes on in that head, when she gets all creepy like that…"

Suddenly the fog was wiped right out of her brain and Ginny turned her bedazzled eyes away from Harry's eyes, to the distinctly less pleasing browns of Ron. For lack of anything better to do, Ginny sneered.

"Who're you calling weird , Ginger?"

Ron made a short strangled sound and looked at her like she had just sprouted a trunk. "Uhm, looked into a mirror lately, Gin?"

Picturing a sturdy, outstretched arm, _Scarlet Fevah _pulled herself up from the mental tumble. Ginny smirked.

"Yes, I have, as a matter of fact, and I saw vivid fiery locks befitting a queen, Ronald. Nothing of the gingery sort, thanks."

There was a snort from Harry's direction, and inwardly Ginny attached the saving arm to the body of a towering, luminescent Harry. A little bubble inside her give a squeal and burst in its joy.

"Yeah, fiery locks my _ass. _I'll call that sun-burnt bee-hive "fiery locks", the day Dumbledore publicly announces his illicit passion for Dobby's toes," Ron sneered back at her, completely missing the significant looks shot at him from his two best friends.

"God, Ron, you can't keep anything down," came Hermione's furious whisper. Looking a bit startled, Ron yelled, "What?" but then Harry had turned his back again to Ginny, and the trio had once more retreated to their private little universe, leaving Ginny blinking, with a slow frown drawing on her features as Zacharia's happy ballad and Ron's preposterous words found a link, in her head.

Feeling suddenly a little giddier, and a little more knowledgeable than she had been before, Ginny thought, _huh. _

_Who would have thought the pixies could have missed that?_

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Oo! **Please Review**. Okay, so I wrote this yesterday, right?- like a spur of the moment thing. I was all in a good mood, getting into the flow.. i even made myself laugh once or twice, so I was all impressed, and my mom kept hollering "dinners ready", but I actually managed to tune her out... it was going great, right? AND THEN. She sends my little brother to my room, and he's being all squeaky and bratty, so I'm like alright, alright! And was writing right on fanfiction, not on a word file, so I press "save" three times in a roll, and LO AND BEHOLD! right when it is loading my internet connection goes "boof" and all my sweat and blood gets laid to waste before me...

I could have cried. But I didn't, and instead tried to rewrite whatever I could remember. So, I apologize if it is not up to par, but I was so not laughing when I was writing it all a second time. *sigh.* And now, It is OVA. So, I really hope you guys enjoy it, because I can't even bring myself to reread this thing for a final edit. lol.

**In the mean time:**

Thank you to** fic-princess, **I hope you like this second installment too, although there was a sad lack of Salazar. But fear not, there shall be more of our favorite angsty pedophile coming soon.

**JoanofAKK**- hahaha! Your name made me laugh. Thank you for your encouragement.

**CalyciaMalfoy- **I hope you enjoy the Dumbledore addition, it was just for you ;)

**REVIEW!!!!**


	3. Chapter 3

Books » Harry Potter » **So, It's Going To Be War, Is It?**

Author: a vestige of peace

Rated: T - English - Romance/Humor - Reviews: 53 - Published: 01-19-09 - Updated: 10-16-09

id:4802882

_**Disclaimer: As my name is a Vestige of Peace- which is not even a name- and not J K bloody Rowling, I clearly do not own Harry Potter or anything even remotely as interesting. So, really, I think this whole disclaimer trend is just cruel and a major, sand-papery rub in the face. **_

**Author's Note: Short Chapter- originally a part of the last chapter, so here it is. I kind of added a pseudo-gay spoof in, but I think I might have done more damage than good. Enjoy. Critique. Tell moi how you feel. Really. **

**God Bless Mrs. Weasley**

He was going to kill Weasley.

The littlest Weasley, he momentarily corrected, before changing his mind again. _No. _He was going to kill the whole lot of them. Mother, father, extended family and nearby muggle village, all included. In fact, by muggle-loving extension, he would kill Potter, too. Just because that warty, scar-faced, no-good, messiah-of-the-bloody-wizarding-world was just too irritating to exist any longer.

Draco seethed.

Distantly, through the bleary fog of mutinous rage, he wondered if taking out the Weasley clan was considered 'ethnic cleansing'. Clenching his teeth and fists, Draco decided that he definitely hoped it was.

But he mustn't lose focus here. His current, and most immediate providence of vengeance was still Ginny Weasley. Or, Ginny &$*!$%#* Weasley, as he had taken to calling her in his head, of late. –Of very late, as he had only just learned her name, looking her up on Snape's fifth-year Gryffindor's grading lists. The despicable woman had even been acing the class.

Letting out a vindictive laugh, Draco thought, well he had certainly taken care of _that_.

Ever since last night, when finally, to his extreme humiliation, annoyance, and modest but deep bred relief, Myrtle had found him and begun the siren about an "icky boy" in her bathroom, Malfoy had gone straight down to business. Waving away the fluttering presence of Madame Pomfrey, he had skipped breakfast, hastily assured Professor Snape that he need not worry about the culprit, and gone straight to the little room of Hogwarts archives adjacent to Filch's office to dig up as much dirt as he could on this new and rather murky nemesis.

At one point he had actually regretted not placing the blame on Potter, but then, conceding that Professor Snape was a smart man, and would probably gravitate towards that conclusion himself, he had delved right into his work without distraction.

_Weasley... Weasley_, Draco chanted in his head, flipping through the dozens of files he'd hauled out before him. He tried to picture her face but all that came to mind was a little frightened looking eleven year old in Diagon Alley, and then a blurry flash of red before he had seen his doom. And then later, when she had shown herself more clearly, he had been seeing red anyways, so she must have kind of blended in, because he could not remember a single feature_. Bloody common-looking Weasleys, it isn't like they look any different from one to the other, anyways. _

_I might as well attach horrid red extensions to Potter's sidekick's unsightly face_.

Draco immediately got an unpleasant sensation in his sensitive stomach and quickly slapped away that gruesome image, lest he throw up on the potentially useful files.

He did not think he could face the humiliation if fate ever paired him up with such a horrid-looking nemesis. Not that _Potter _was anything to look at- but a Malfoy had to have a adversary of some note. And how could anyone achieve any kind of notability, with a befreckled misfortune for a face, like Weasley's? At least the malnourished prat who he _was _forced to adverse had some (admittedly, sick) kind of charm. A feeble amount, somewhere between the air of I'm-such-a-bloody-dramatic-tragedy, and the big, mournful green eyes, that practically spelled out Trustworthy. Not that Draco bought it of course, but the common opinion seemed suggest as much.

_Blood common opinion, _Draco scoffed. If common opinion knew anything it would know that Potter's eyes were nothing but dull and hairy, with more lashes than any sign of comprehension. Besides, if there had to be anything of quality about the Boy Who Should By All Rights Have Died Many Times Now, it was his ridiculously luscious hair.

Blinking unfocused eyes, Draco's mind wandered. Yes, he had definitely noticed the unnaturally silky smooth shine in those unruly black locks.

So what if wafts of cheap shampoo came off it whenever Draco peered too closely in Potion's calls? The spiky ends continued to glisten in the light a gorgeous, undamaged bluish-black. It was the type of hair, Draco had long ago decided, that would really last on the head- even after testosterone launched its last offensive. And Draco Malfoy knew all about hair loss. He had had to deal with his father's withering locks for the past three grueling summers at home. What with finding half the shower drains clogged all the time, and the innumerable scalp therapy experiments he had been forced to apply on his father. Thick paste after pungent paste sticking to his fingers, getting on his clear home slippers; his pajamas… And worst of all, the feel of a thinly concealed scalp under his nails as he massaged it for endless hours. Oh, how much better he would prefer it were thick black hair instead. Paste-less and smooth; like silken threads caressing the sensitive pads of his fingertips…

There was a slapping sound as the bottom file slipped from his knees and hit the stone.

Panic.

Er.

Frowning in a slightly deranged sort of way, Draco decided that it was time to stop thinking. The arrested silence in his head resonated.

Potter's hair on his fingers?

He blinked.

_Well that was deplorable and unexpected. _

Sick feeling in his stomach returning, Draco's frowned deepened. Why had he even been thinking about hair?

Oh, right. Weasley._ Bloody, faceless, gingery Weasley_.

The one who had sat on him in a flooded washroom, he reminded himself more specifically, stamping the last remains of silky black hair caught in stubborn angles and the running lists of hair-solutions that he knew could take care of their unruly ways, out of his head.

Focusing gray eyes once more on the spilled paper from the folder on the ground before him, Draco squinted in the feeble light to see what they were for, before he got carried away on anymore hairy tangents.

_Or is that "_harry_ tangents", _an obnoxious voice from the back of his head said wryly. Wisely deciding to ignore this part of himself, Draco mediated his mind back to its silent state, narrowing his eyes intently on the papers in front of him.

GRYFFINDOR ADMINISTRATION: HOGSMEADE PERMISSION FORMS

Resisting a victory "HOOT!", Draco thought, _perfect, _settling for a bitterly satisfied smile. Getting his feet off some of them, he hunched over to shuffle them back into a rough stack and into the aging folder.

There was a creak by the door, but amid all the shuffling and cracking of stiff parchments getting ironed under the folder flap, Draco paid it no heed. He picked up the stack from the ground and replacing the piles on his lap to the top of a dwarf filing cabinet, he began furiously flipping.

_Weasley... Weasley... Weasley…_

_Aha!_

_Ronald Bilius Weasley_

Shifting his weight on his chair, Draco prepared himself with glee. He removed the sheet from its sandwich of stale parchments, tilting it towards the candle light.

_Do you, blah, permission blah... Hogmeade? _Draco read silently. Shifting his gaze below, hurriedly.

_"I __Ron's Mother, Mrs Weasley, __give this student the permission to attend the Hogwarts trips to the wizarding village of Hogsmeade..._."

_Yes, yes, _Draco thought impatiently, _now give me something juicy so I can oWn the prat. _

_... Allergies, reactants, etc.: Wrackspurt juice, severe arachnophobia- my Ronny gets dreadful nightmares all summer long. He has been, ever since his brothers- Fred and George, I'm sure you know them-..._

Draco widened his eyes in mock fear. Good god the woman could go on and on... but this was definitely good.

There was a little tap, on the ground a little closer from the door, but Draco did not hear. A happy, giddy smile was catching at the corners of his normally sneering lips.

So, he thought, creating an immediate mental backlog, Lord Freckle was scared of spiders... Draco was sure he could fit that somewhere into his grander schemes. Folding the parchment into a neat half, he hastily shoved it into the outer pocket of his cloak.

He passed by Wizzbie's, Welleys, Watts', Wells', and more Weasleys... Fred and Percy, George, Charlie, Ginerva, Bill- _oh shit._ Throwing off the pile on his knees and lifting the top part of the stack on the ground again, Draco backpedaled as fast as he could. Feeling excitement rush like a blazing, jittering flood down his spine. He began leafing backwards with blinding speed. Ginerva, Ginerva...

Some distant part of his mind thought "damn," as he realized that that had been the name his mother had told him was selected for his first born female child in the future. He had really liked that name, too. _Bloody Weasleys. Just because they multiply like bacteria, they think they're royalty now. _

He sniffed. Then, at last the form was in his hands.

_Ginerva Molly Weasley_

_Molly! _he scoffed. _AND, they return back to their impoverished origins. _

Eyes narrowed to silver slits, Draco pushed away the sheets of previously orderly papers and trailed his eyes down to the line that would say it all:

_'Phobias, Allergies, reactants, etc:'_

_"My Ginny," _read Mrs Weasley's bubbling, curly letters, "_is very sensitive, and I would please ask that she be permitted outside the walls of the castle, with a certain amount of supervision only. She is to be let nowhere near a boggart, the Shrieking Shack, Zonko's Joke shop, filibuster's fireworks, her twin brothers, ...' _the letter went on for a paragraph more. Then,_ "she also has a sensitive condition with her bladder- you know, she used to wet her bed well into her 9th year- so, if Madame Pomfrey could please supply her with the tonic before any of these outings..."_

Draco Malfoy's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets_. Bladder Problems_? he thought in alarm, an incredulous snort of laughter bursting from his throat_. Well that certainly explains why she was always hovering around that damn washroom!_

_Oh, surely this is too perfect to be true!_

Deep inside him, Draco felt a sudden and unnatural flood of affection towards the insane woman who had written on all of these consent forms.

_A bladder problem_ and_ a boggart! _It was almost as if the woman was planning it all in his head, herself!

But the feeling of euphoria was quickly interrupted when, with a last crunch, the footsteps that had been creeping towards him landed right behind his chair and a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

"I've got you now, Malfoy."

**I have to say, this is my favorite chapter so far. It's really silly, and very fast-paced manic, unlike the last chapter, which was just **_**manic,**_** and it makes me really happy inside. :D**

**REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I Disclaim. **

**Author's Note: Sorry about the late update- fanfiction was down all of last weekend, when I generally work on these things and post them, so I could not log on. As a result, I spent the time editing some stuff, and when all started working as it should, I had to upload all the new things, and delete some old chapters. One of those ended up being the 3rd chapter of this story, so when I edited that I had to re-upload it, and then re publish it. And that's why the false update alert. Sorry. **

**BUT, on the plus side- I was going to leave this off until next week, but as I feel bad, I decided to work on it, and finish it today. So, yay!**

**This chapter is dedicated to ****Secret23****, and ****emerald isle ****for the idea, and ****FaithfulHPReader ****for the much needed wack on the head.**

**Hairy Tangents**

"I've got you now Malfoy."

The voice behind him seemed to ring ominously in the high ceiling of the chamber, and for the smallest instant, Draco considered not turning around at all, a) to retain his hard won euphoria for a little while longer, and b) to possibly get rid of all evidence of his past odd hour's potentially reputation-maiming activities. Which, considering he had still not turned around, continued to serve as an enticing option, and Draco was just calculating how he could possibly slip** the wand he had stolen from Goyle**out of his cloak pocket and get it to his hand without moving, when the ominous owner of the ominous voice suddenly decided to lose patience, and roughly pulled his trapped shoulder, forcibly swerving his chair around.

If the face that met his shocked eyes had not been such an unexpected and heart-failingly unwanted one, Draco might have been impressed by this feat of strength. Especially since the chair had definitely not been swervible and continued to vibrate for some time from the 180 degree scrape on the cement floors, further jarring his highly disoriented mind.

As it happened however, Draco's thoughts had only managed to formulate a bleary "wha…", when in a surreal moment of arrested development, the full impact of the unmistakable face of Harry Potter, shrouded in shadow, looming over him in a familiarly antagonistic stance in this rather mortifying position, really sunk in.

Suffice to say that Draco's neural circuits proved their efficiency with spectacular speed, as before the chair had even rested all four legs on the ground stably, Draco's eyes had turned from blankly surprised, to an incredible 'behold-it's-the-Dark-Lord!' wide.

Somewhere in his subconscious a chorus of cells chanted "_omgomgomgomgomFgomg..."_

His conscious brain, however, was having a harder time formulating anything at all.

_"I've got you now...?" _his brain eventually echoed unhelpfully. To Draco's extreme irritation and uncomfortable heart palpitation, the organ sounded far too vacant for an alleged "Center of Cognition". Taking a deep breath to help hasten the oxygenating process, Draco scrambled around trying to administer all of the bases of the situation. 'I've got you now?' _Crap! _he thought, _What the hell does that mean?_

And then, as if a great dark ugly boulder had been rolled away from his mental circuit, his brain jolted awake.

Inanely, the first clear thought that rang through his conscious was "_thank you, Sisyphus." _But, not knowing who the hell Sisyphus was, and realizing that, really, he could not give less of a damn at the moment; Draco batted that thought away as quickly as he could, before it created another delay in his cerebral freeway.

_The hair! _His brain fragmented helpfully;_ Healthy Potter hair!_

Immediately, the worrisome heart palpitations of earlier was forgotten as an unhealthy harum-scarum rocked inside his ribcage.

_Oooh shit. _

The subconscious chanting got louder.

_Oh my good and gracious Merlin. He knows about the hair, _Draco thought in, very possibly, actual physical pain. Feeling himself rapidly shrinking inside a dark and obscure corner of his mind, he thought the Gryffindor must have heard him mumbling about the hair all alone in the candlelight, while he had crept up on him from behind. _Aahh! _he wailed to the too-cruel universe, _how humiliating! _

Realizing, in a vague instant of illumination, that there probably was no hole in the word small enough to swallow him at this moment, Draco desperately peered into the dim chamber, to remember if he had in fact whispered any of his earlier illicit musing about said illicit hair, out loud. Wide-eyed, Draco bored into Potter's snarky face in earnest; scanning it, trying to grade the level of disgust and anger he saw there.

After a painfully long moment- wherein the chair was just thrumming off its last vibrations- Draco saw a small shed of light. Although he found a healthy dose of both- Draco felt his rampaging heart-rate slowly decrease to a slightly more normal rate as he bore into every line, shadow and pore of Potter's face, to find no trace of particularly sadistic revulsion there.

Unconsciously, his eyes flicked up to the dully gleaming black locks, and immediately his repository of self-respect gave an indignant lurch and he blinked- _But I never _mumbled _about the hair..._

Blinking, he decided to further investigate this line of realization. Had he mumbled about the hair? Back peddling as fast as was neurally possible, Draco realized, that indeed he had not. Feeling like he had accidentally allowed his dainty foot to have wandered outside some kind of line of Denial, he quickly felt obliged to add: _But, what hair?_ There was no hair to be thought of!

Feeling uncharacteristically peaky, Draco scrambled for his normally immovable hauteur before Potter noticed anything shady about his appearance.

Alright.

The chair wobbled to a final stop; Draco squared his previously hunched shoulders and prepared for... whatever it was that his arch-nemesis would put him through this time. Feeling a twinge of displeasure, Draco realized that he had never actually been at the receiving end of one of these confrontations. _Since when is _Potter_ out for _me_? _he questioned the Universe, in offense.

In fact, Draco reasoned, judging by Potter's normally very forward nature- although Draco was disappointed that he had developed even this level of quiet sneakiness- he had probably not even been in the room long enough to have discovered anything, let alone something of importance.

_"I've got you now"- what the bloody hell does that mean? _Draco thought again, almost scoffing out loud. _As if._

The more he thought about it, while staring at the dark haired emblem of Idiocy before him, the more Draco thought that that rather sounded exactly like the kind of useless Gryffindor announcement of over-confidence at the first sign of victory that he would expect from Potter. Looking at the lanky figure before him through narrowed eyes a little longer, Draco realized that there really was nothing worth panicking and needlessly giving himself away about.

Clutching the papers still in his hand, Draco sighed in small relief.

_Oh ,thank you, Great uncanny Malfoy ancestor for the genes, _he telepathically attempted to convey to his ancestry.

_And thank you, sorting hat_, _for saving me from the horrors of La La Land, _he added, an ounce of bitter vomit touching the back of his mouth.

He estimated that all of about four seconds had passed since Potter's ridiculous proclamation, and the rather rude departure from a happy state. Twisting the corner of his mouth in a suffering grimace, Draco judged that it was still not too late to burst the boy's overly obnoxious bubble.

So, "No," he retorted at last, "you don't, you dim twit."

The smug expression which Draco could see more clearly in the adjusting light, seemed to waver for the briefest of instants, before it settled itself more securely, no doubt, as the great Pot Head reassured himself of his triumph.

"Let's see, Malfoy..." he retorted, cocking his big head an inch in mock consideration. "I have a wand pointed at your heart, and you look like you just might shit your pants any time now. So. I think I do." Smirk.

"No," Draco replied, keeping his voice slow, as if he were attempting to teach a skrewt how to meditate, "you only _think _you've got me because the whole meaning behind your existence seems to be to pester the denizens of the magical world. Whereas _I_ actually look like I have a life."

"Yeah?" Potter snorted, clearly not buying a word, "What's your life doing in Filch's archives at eleven o'clock in the evening?"

"That's none of your business, Potter," Draco snapped- rather reasonably, he thought. Then, to get back on the offensive- "And I might ask you the same thing."

If it had not been so dark, Draco could have sworn he saw a glimmer of unease in the Gryffindor's features. But instead, there was a brief pause, and then a snappish, "I don't have to tell you anything, Malfoy!"

"Oh, yes, of course, I forgot" Draco drawled, rolling his eyes and now feeling the dawning signs of a long-suffering annoyance. "Of course. While_ I _have to tell _you_, because you are the revered _Harry Bloody Potter, _lord of the faerie realm "Fluff and Sap", and Boy Who Lived to Interrogate."

For a moment Harry said nothing to this, but simply glared. Draco, now indubitably displeased, glared right back.

Finally, for lack of anything better to say, it would seem, Harry replied, "Whatever's going to help you sleep at night, Malfoy. I don't have time to set your deranged theories about my life straight.

"Now, I know you're up to something. What is it?"

The pointy stick held towards his person nudged his collar bone in warning. Draco's fingers itched for his own wand to show the nuisance 6th year a lesson once and for all. **Unfortunately, all he had available was the overtly thick and stumpy wand that Goyle had lent him ("lent" was a bit of an overstatement, but Draco had made sure there was some degree of consent involved), and that was currently far and out of his reach.**

"I have said this before, Potter, and I will say it again: you are _by far_ the dimmest bloody prat I have ever had the misfortune of coming across since the first hag that humped a dead weasel to give rise to the Weasel clan."

Eyes narrowing to angry green slits, Potter shot back, "I'm not the dim twit who left the door open, with the candle light flooding down the corridor for everyone in the castle to catch my no-good activities, Malfoy."

A little, tiny part of Draco had the grace to feel sheepish. _Closing the door! Of course, _it thought, _it's elementary sneaking procedure!_ Rearing up the great Malfoy part of him, Draco told that part to shut up. Humility would not do- this situation called for anger. His father had taught him long ago that when cornered into a defensive position, always attack with a vengeance, so that your enemy is confused, and hopefully your positions will be reversed.

The advice had always brought to mind a girlish slap fight in Draco's teenage head, but he was fairly sure that was not what his father had been trying to get at, at all.

Gathering up his Slytherin wits about him, Draco snarled.

_"_Oh shove it Potter, as if you and your goody-two-shoes band of ninnies has ever been up to any "no-good activities"."

"Oho! So you admit that you're up to no good," The prat replied, smug look getting, if possible, even smugger.

"No, you stupid four-eyes," Draco immediately snapped, angry with himself for the slip. Harry scowled, and Draco was about add "who the hell says 'oho' in this day and age you mindless flop!", and probably something about putting his pants back on, and taking Dumbledore out of his mind- when a little strand of black hair slipped from over the rim of Potter's glasses, and got into his eye. Draco felt like a momentary cloud had been passed through his head. He took a deep breath- distantly hoping it sounded like a Gasp of Fury- and right then, Harry angrily blew at ebony tendrils that seemed to now be lodged behind his lenses. Opening his mouth once more to complete his statement, Draco was hit by the scent of peppermint and detergent in the air.

The retort died in his throat.

The entire universe seemed to slow to a crawl.

In what seemed like an age, Draco blinked.

_Cheap soap? _

Even in his head, he sounding shrill. Blinking again, Draco felt his eyes unwillingly slide in slow motion with the curling hair, floating upwards, and up, blending with the wispy darkness of the night, pushed on in the furious force of the wind streaming out of Potter's pursed lips. It hung in the air above his forehead for an elongated fraction of a second, waving slightly, _mesmerizing,_ before it eternally soared back down and knocked with a bounce-

-flat against scarred white skin.

Scarred.

Draco blinked again. The temporary journey of time through mud seemed to cease just as suddenly as it began.

Potter.

Self-loathing ire flared inside Draco's chest suddenly; a molten stream of it rushing to his face. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

His dignity, having suffered quite enough, felt obliged to come up with a decent answer this time.

It was hardly his fault, it supplied, that the candlelight caught at the other boy's stupid, healthy, shining, ebony hair so deliciously. _I'm distracted with jealousy! _Draco proclaimed indignantly. _It isn't fair. _Pulling out the mental file of Future Schemes that he had earlier put the Weasel's phobias into, Draco added 'burning Potter's ridiculously distracting hair, to level the playing field' as another necessary scheme. _Stupid Potter, with his stupid pretty hair and stupid famous scar. _

_Thank god he's not blond, _he suddenly thought, a scowl steadily grounding at his features. At least he topped the vile half-blood there.

_Quarter-blood. Whatever. _He scoffed. _Who needs black hair._

Glancing back up at Potter's face, he realized too late that one of Potters eyebrows had risen over the frame of his glasses, and that he was frowning at Draco in a very affronted and incredulous manner.

"That was not even a come-back!" he burst, finally. Draco failed to note the slight tilt of disappointment there, as a jolt of anger shot through him and he imagined a round, Potter-size chunk of the ceiling falling and smothering the bright-eyed, nosey-arsed brat where he stood.

When the ceiling continued to remain as it had for the past 2000 years, Draco said "Like you know anything about come-backs," hoping that that regained him some points.

"Malfoy," Potter said again, sounding entirely nonplussed. "_What _were you up to here? I know you were up to something- let's just call it an uncanny 6th sense I have developed since the past six years- so you might as well just spit it out, before I get Filch here."

Draco felt his- breathtaking- silver eyes narrow. A furious heat of anger seemed to leak from some part of his soul, until he was looking up at the Boy Who Lived To Irritate Draco through slightly fogged lenses. A maddened sneer tugged at his features, and the hand holding the papers that he would be damned if Potter ever saw twitched slightly.

There was a quiet crackling sound, as the flaky parchments bent to accommodate his aggravated pressure. The rustling was enough to refocus Draco's mind on what the immediate priority in the situation was, stopping him right in time, before he had lifted a foot in childish fury and stamped on the bloody twit's toes.

Unfortunately, the faint sound was also heard by Potter.

In a horrid instant of the-stupid-soldier-who-let-go-of-the-arrow-before-the-prewar-negotiations-were-over, Draco felt the air between them suddenly tense to a freezing point, in record time as the situation teetered and paused-

Harry, who with his last pronouncement was sure that victory was indeed close, and could practically hear the padding little feet of Mrs. Norris sneaking around the corner, suddenly became intensely aware of the silence that had fallen on the room. He peered at Malfoy suspiciously, and beyond the narrowed eyes, his seeker perception caught the familiar flicker of a wary and calculating expression passing through. Something rustled in the darkness, in Malfoy's hands.

Harry felt the happy little smile of anticipation falter and then vanish from his face.

He looked down.

And Draco saw the prat's eyes move down- crap, crap, crap!-. Draco thought as fast as was humanly possible. His tongue swelled in his mouth, until it had turned into a log. His heart rate peaked. His fingers tightened around the permission forms, getting clammy and cold in an instant.

Glaring up at the Gryffindor- to maintain eye-contact, if not to bore two ugly holes into the cocky face- Draco turned the papers in his hand very slightly, in a sneaky effort to hide them in the shadow between his legs. The movement, now being watched like a hawk by Potter, was not lost this time. Draco, realizing this, and irrational in a flurry-of-the-moment desperate kind of way, twisted his wrist abruptly, slapping the papers flat against the bottom of his chair-.

The sound was like a war cry. Like a frog awaiting the fly to wander just close enough- in super speed, Harry's other hand shot out, and without thinking, he lunged forward.

Draco, shocked beyond reason, also acting in reflex, felt the sinews of his inner thigh muscles twitch to life and soar together.

In another spell of lengthened time, Draco watched as the black sleeved arm disappeared into the shadows between his thighs, and the two appendages of this upper legs narrowed rapidly together. The endless moment went on and on, and then- Potters fingers had clasped around his wrist, and Draco's legs finally slammed together, sandwiching both their arms immobile where they were.

Reality hit like a bucket of ice water.

Draco's head tipped sharply down, his eyes transfixed by the sight of the trapped hands frozen in a place where he certainly did not want them.

(-Well, maybe not his own hand. But he definitely did not want them there when he was facing Potter-)

Stupid Potter!

Draco looked up.

Feeling a creeping warmth flare into his facial cavity, Draco felt his body go tense in mortification. Staring into the equally rounded green eyes in front of him, Draco saw the same confusion in his mind passing rapidly across his face.

It was like one of those pinnacle moments in life when there are only two roads you could choose from. And each would result in your life being changed forever.

_Give him the papers, and fall into a further low in my weekly humiliation dose, by Weasley; or, lose my dignity forever by refusing to slacken legs…_

When nothing continued to happen for another two seconds, Draco decided that his choice was clearly made, and he might as well make the best out of an already sick situation. Swallowing the grainy obstruction from this throat, Draco managed to ground out some sound.

"Wow, this was a little fast, don't you think?" he managed to say with a nonchalant hauteur. Mentally, Draco pictured himself roaring a mortified fire of rage and burning the too-skinny, too-boyish, too-Gryffindor hand too-near his manhood to smithereens.

His announcement finally seemed to move the other boy into action, and with a gasping "ugh", Potter decided to finally jerk his hand back, snatching it away from where It Should Never Be, and holding it against his chest, as if it was wounded.

Draco rather thought that this was unfair, since by all rights, _he _should've been the mincing one.

"Shut up Malfoy!" Potter's voice seemed to have gone four years back in puberty, but realizing that this was one of those moments even _he_ was reluctant to admit had just happened, let alone take advantage of, Draco let it slide, pursing his lips.

"I was just trying to- What is that in your hand?" The sputtering fool finally managed to demand in a remotely masculine tone.

"Oh, Potter," Draco said, voice dripping with repugnance "I think you have been nosey enough for one day, don't you?"

Bespeckled eyes narrowed, Potter glared down at him through a flaming face. "Fuck, Malfoy! Why do you always have to be so difficult?"

_Difficult?_

"Difficult?" Draco repeated, outraged. "Potter, despite what you may have hoped for when you decided to creep up on me at this hour, I am _not _going to let your filthy hands come anywhere near my jewels."

Face turning from red to puce, Harry closed his eyes as if he was counting backwards from ten and finding it too low a number.

"Malfoy, you complete douche. I know you are up to something sinister this year. I was in the compartment at the start of term when you told your sidekicks about your Death Eater initiation, okay? And I am going to be on your tail this year, even if it means missing my quidditch games!"

"Great, Potter, so we know you are besotted with me. Now _shoo._"

"Pah," the Boy Who Stalked seemed to sputter as he tried to form a coherent response, and Draco- in his infinite cognitive superiority- desperately thumbed the topmost parchment which he knew must have belonged to Ginger and let it slip to the floor, before raising his back out of obscurity.

"Show me what's in your hand and I'll leave Malfoy," he finally demanded, predictably. Draco almost rolled his eyes. After making a great show of resisting, and conflicting inside, Draco released an explosive sigh and flicking his wrist, he threw the papers at Potter feet with the classic Malfoyish air of "here and begone, pest!".

The papers made a splat hitting the stone floor and the tops of Potter's battered trainers and spread askew, all over the floor. Answering the irritated glance shot at him with a haughty one, Draco pushed the Ginger's paper back under his chair with the heel of his boot, just as Potter bent to shuffle together the sprawling parchments at his feet.

Free from the unerring green gaze at last, Draco felt the trickling beginnings of his regular plotting self rising. Latching his eyes on the back of the suddenly occupied black head, Draco silently slunk back, reaching awkwardly across the back of his chair to grab the wand that protruded from his right pocket. Taking a deep breath wherein Harry was still too preoccupied, attempting to disipher the writing in the darkness, Draco whipped the wand around in front of him.

Harry's puzzled gaze on the sheet imediately in front of him was just shifting to a shadow of understanding when the thick, dark wood wand exploded with a silently exclaimed "_expelliarmus". _

Draco got the satisfaction of seeing the boy's big green eyes go wide with surprise, just as he had opened his questioning mouth, before the wand whirled away from his grasp, and he was sent flying backwards and into a stack of chairs. There was a clatter by the door, where his wand dropped, and a groan, immediately followed by thumping sound of a gryffy body slumping unconscious.

Grinning is satisfaction, at last, Draco whispered "_lumos,"_ quickly bending to folded the piece of parchment that was going to be the foundations of Weasley's downfall, shoving it into the pocket of his cloak, and kicked away the rest of the papers towards the foot of the cabinet. As he got up, he took a moment to furiously rub his thighs, to rid them of the feel of Potter's arm. A nauseated tightness clutched his throat as he did so.

With a final pat, he straightened up once more, swinging the heavy black fabric around his shoulders and jogged out of the chamber before Potter's prediction came true, and Filch trudged past.

As silently as he could, he moved through the darkness, keeping close to the corners, to avoid running into any midnight strollers. It was past his third turn that his foot caught at something smooth, and he slipped over a pile of shiny fabric on the floor. Staggering to a stop a foot away, Draco turned around and glanced down at the pool of silvery material that glinted in the faint light.

It took him a moment of blank staring before slowly it dawned on him just what he was looking at.

"What the-," he whispered to no one in particular.

Glancing around him at the still shadows, Draco carefully bent over and picked up the fluid cloth which he had the giddy suspicion he knew exactly what it was. Opening it up as wide as it would go, Draco felt the euphoria that had briefly visited him so long ago, return in full force.

Realizing that this was the path that led to the staircase allegedly leading to the "secret" Gryffindor tower hidey hole, Draco was certain that it had been left here by Potty brain, in his venture to "catch" Draco at the Archives.

Snorting in amusement, Draco imagined that leaving it behind had probably also been out of some sentiment of chivalry, and immediately he felt disappointed at having ever hoped that the idiot could be sneaky.

Draping it around his shoulders in excitement, Draco watched his body entirely disappear against the stony back drop, and turning back around he book it even faster than he had been before, towards the Slytherin dungeons.

**NEXT CHAPTER**: _Ginny runs into Harry. Draco runs into Ginny. Harry continues to be be unconscious. Mrs. Norris, deception and invisibility cloaks are involved. _

**A/N: Apparently, "stablely" and "snarky" are not words. Neither, are "gryffindor", "hidey hole" and slytherin. So, I have decided to completely ignore the counsel of fanfiction dictionary, because, luckily, the power of editing still remains with me, and I plan on using it to its full effect. Take that, Samuel Johnson!**

**PS/ REVIEWWWWW!**

**Now, for some heart felt thanks: **

**noname**, thank you for the sympathy. Lol. It was painful, but I am planning on never making that mistake again, let me tell you. Haha. And I am glad you adore my humour, because frankly, sometimes I feel like I am the only one who appreciates the insanity.

**Secret23,** you are basically the mind behind this chapter. So, by all rights, this one is dedicated to you.

**emerald isle**, YAY! And yes, considering how deeply into my tangents I get- the part where they admittedly love each other will take a while. Unless I totally change my mind. But I am not a story writer in any sense, so it will probably not be a very conventional D/G story.

**Umbridgeskitty**, hah! I just got your name as I typed it. That's bloody awesome. Did you know she was my favorite character next to lupin in the whole series. In fact, I think you have just given me an idea. ..

**FaithfulHPReader**, I knowww! And I feel TERRIBLE! It was a really confusing, long winded, chained cause-and-effect kind of thing... but you are basically the reason that this chapter is updating so early.

_**REVIEW! **_

**NEW IDEAS AND/OR FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: If I pretended that Harry Potter really was mine, and that I was actually JK Rowling having mad, inappropriate fun with my children's characters- would you believe me?**

** Well, hell. Apparently "children" can not be made into a possessive. **

*****Thanks to Faithfulhpreader who reassure me that I was not insane, but that the chapters really were dragging, I am working on making them more compact. So, IF YOU HAVE READ CH 5 ALREADY, don't worry about this. The only thing I have changed is that Ginny goes out not to pursue Harry but to return Draco's wand that she stole in ch. 1. That's about it. **

**Newest update this fri/sat. :)

* * *

  
**

Ginny felt like a total creeper.

Standing in the shadow of the thick drapes, she continued to watch as her brother tried his utmost to consume Hermione Granger's face.

Caught in a twisted state of captivation by what turned her insides into acidic, green, goo, Ginny could not make herself stop staring at the slimy, engorged piece of frenzied muscle coiling and twirling around the insides of her friend's moist, smooth cheek. It was disgusting. Like that famous text book picture of that snake that was captured mid-swallow, with it's repulsive reptilian jowls stretched against the innocent, bewildered, spotted toad butt. She felt like her thirteen year old self who had been fixated by her own sick revulsion and could not stop watching the snake swallow the poor frog repeatedly, all over again.

She had felt like a creeper then, too, of course, but it had been okay, because she had had the comfort of knowing that_ everyone_ did it- Colin had even insisted on taking a muggle photo of it, so it had clearly not been just her.

But _this-_ Ron's gaping aperture, glistening in the firelight, lathering the insides of the suffering mouth beneath it with as much of his saliva as he could produce with his succulent ducts- this was just sinful.

And still, Ginny had no choice but to watch. Even when she averted her gaze, it all took place in her periphery with spectacular detail. There was no option of closing her eyes, because the whole reason she had been tucked in her current, desperate predicament had been because she had not been watchful enough.

Well, no, that was not entire true, the couple would have ended up on top of each other whether Ginny had kept an eye on them or not. There was never much she could have done.

And considering the fact that she had been hiding here ever since the first stray early-sleepers had begun to wander off to bed, Ginny also found that there was not much that she could do now either.

It was not as if she could pop out now and announce her presence.

_"Hi guys! Wachu doin'? Oh, the old inhaling technique. Well, don't mind me."_

No, that would not go over well, at all. For one thing, even in the off chance that she did not melt in the humiliation of being caught _lurking_, the first thing that they would ask her would be what the hell she was up to.

_"Oh," _she mentally experimented with a dainty wave of her hand, "_just trying to_ _sneak down to the dungeons and sneak Malfoy's wand which I stole two days ago while attacking him, through their common room door. _

Biting the inside of her cheek in frustration, Ginny hated the horrified expression on Ron's face that she imagined. Slumping low in her shadowy corner, Ginny bitterly regretted the day she had been born after Ron.

Not that she could have done much about _that, _either.

Feeling entirely uncharitable, Ginny risking moving one arm behind the curtain a little, and shook her fist at The Universe. _Damn you, Universe, _she blasphemed darkly. _I'm trying to be nice to the stupid prat when I don't even have to be. Was it too much to ask for a little _luck_?_

The Universe remained infuriatingly silent.

Ginny scowled, automatically looking back at Ron, right in the middle of his flailing fish manoeuvre, too. Suppressing a reflexive gag, she thought "_Wonderful."_

Huffing in revulsion and feeling suddenly extremely claustrophobic, Ginny quickly made herself look away again.

Trying to breathe through the frustration, Ginny searched around desperately for a way to escape. At this point she did not even care about returning the wand, in fact she was severely regret even her momentary goodwill. She just wanted to _sleep. _Not even sleep, but _leave. _But there was absolutely no way that she could get in her snogging brother's line of vision and still make it up the stairs to the dormitories.

Swallowing a scream, Ginny realized that she would have to wait behind the folds of musky smelling drapes, pressed against the uncomfortable, cold glass, until they either finally had enough of each other, _like normal people!_, or possibly succeeding accidentally plunging too deep and plugging one of their trachea.

Having watched Ron going at it without once surfacing for air, for the past half hour, Ginny knew the idea was not very far fetched either. _In fact_, _he'll probably pull off the impossible and choke himself,_ she thought dryly

But right then, her thoughts were interrupted by an odd shuffle and a ripping sound.

...Rather like sticky skin rubbed against leather.

Frowning, with a growing sense of trepidation, Ginny cautiously peered from the end of the curtain, squinting, in case she needed to shut her eyes really fast.

Hermione was now sitting up on the badly molested sofa, with her eyes closed in some kind of sick passion, while Ron nuzzled her throat from behind.

Feeling a grimace tightening the corners of her eyes, Ginny awaited some further development.

There was a moment when Hermione seemed to sneak a peek at the stairs, and Ginny felt a leap of joy in her chest- clearly having not learnt her lesson about how much Fate seemed to love letting her down. But then, with a happy little cackle, Fate indeed let her down, and Hermione stood up, closing her eyes once more, and Ron- mouth seemingly stuck to her skin- rose with her, and pushed her backwards.

Ginny's eyes widened, hand curling instinctively around the wand sticking out of her pocket.

Hermione, now standing, and with nothing to lean against, stepped backwards and stuck a hand behind her, clawing the air for leverage. When nothing appeared, she took another step backwards, turning against the corner of the couch, while Ron kept on mauling his face at her, gliding up her neck, to her jaw, chin, mouth- hands tugging at the front of her top.

Ginny prepared her cornea for another assault and took a deep breath, ready to look away again-

But then, the couple's 90 degrees turn at the edge of the sofa arm was completed, and suddenly Ginny found herself face-to-back with Hermione and thus far inkling panic dunked on her like a buck full of lake water in the middle of winter. Immediately, two things became very clear: one, that Ron had still not stopped pushing, and secondly that Hermione was now very rapidly losing her patience.

Horror replaced the panic.

Ron hands went up to grab Hermione's shoulders, clearly preparing to run her into the wall in some mad display of passion. Ginny wavered where she stood, torn by the equally powerfully impulse to jet both right and left. Her heart shot up and lodged itself in her throat, and the worlds became just a little hazy at the edges, with the only focused part Hermione's clearly defined back rushing towards her.

At the last minute, with fear getting her better of her, Ginny clasped the wand in her hand and dived left from behind the cloth, turning mid spin and shrieking with sheer adrenaline- "_Petrificus Totalus! PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"_

Two dense jets of energy shot out of her wand tip and caught Ron by the elbow and Hermione in the face. There was a pause, where nothing moved when beyond the rushing racket of blood pounding by Ginny's ears. Then, two pair of arms and legs froze rigid, and locked together with a snap.

There was a long moment when they simply stood, stiff and erect there, swaying, during which Ginny's guilt and horror poured through her highly adrenalined circulation with a heat.

Gulping, Ginny mouth opened but no sound came out.

_Oh my god. What have I done?  
_

* * *

Draco found himself thanking the witless wonder that was Potter for the thirteenth time that night when, turning into the corridor that would lead him into the Entrance Hall, he almost ran right into a dazed looking Professor Sinistra. Draco had found his heart leap into his pharynx for three very long seconds before his brain had finally processed the continued blank look on the tragically hideous woman's face, and he had realized that he could not be seen. Wanting desperately to do a small, dignified, victory dance but not finding the room to spare, Draco had succumbing instead to desperately thanking the gods for creating Harry Potter and his not-apparently-mythical invisibility cloak, for the first time in his life.

His delight, however, was short lived, when Sinistra quickly began to gain on him. Stumbling hastily backwards, Draco figured that the cloak probably did not take care of his solidity the same way.

Smirking, he could not help it: _it would take a lot more some flimsy cloak to soften this solid mass. Ha. Ha. _

Sinistra continued her sauntering. Draco lost his smirk trying to keep up. _Why i_- frowning, he watched her feet- _is she _zigzagging_?_ Draco wavered in his spot, attempting to predict her movements. The corridor was narrow and he was so close to the common room that each step backwards stripped off a little more of his good humour at a time.

Looking closer, he realized that the professor had a smear of burgundy lipstick down to her chiseled chin and that she was _humming. _Raising one incredulous eye brow, Draco wondered if she (he?) was under some kind of spell. Narrowing his eyes against the gloom, Draco's brain proposed ..._cheering charm? _rather hesitantly. But, no, she did not seem giddy... not that Sinistra could ever be giddy (Draco shuddered at the mental proposition), but rather ... possessed?

Draco squinted through the cloak. Sinistra continued to sway closer to him. Draco decided to copy her, and hopped from side to side away from her. Considering the dazed expression on her manly face, the imperious curse was definitely a possibility.

Feeling unimpressed, Draco thought she was probably the most useless imperai he had ever met. He considered tripping her to... help her out.

Surely she would thank him for it.

Something hit the back of his shins and Draco flailed out his arms to step from tripping on him behind. Instinctively, he clutched at teh fabric around him to stop it from falling off. The corrider moving higher also got narrowers. Now apprehenisive, Draco inched up the steps more slowly.

Sinistra was almost before him. Draco prepared himself, he would have to trip her afterall.

A husky, breathy sound escaped from her reddened lips.

Draco blinked. His foot froze where it was.

"Severus."

Confusion trickled into the folds of Draco's mind.

Brain working overly hard, Draco tried to figure out just what kind of a situation would call for such an utterance from a sexually questionably professor alone in a corridor so near the Slytherin quarters at this time of night.

Swallowing an expanding lump in his throat, Draco's head turned slowly to his left.

A mass of pitch black fabric met Draco's vision. There was a keen instant before realization hit him when Draco blinked several times, willing his pupils to dilate to see through the darkness. His hand twitched, and he was about to extend it forward to feel through the blackness, when suddenly the opaque darkness developed an outline. Two parallel verticle lines... kind of like arms... tipped with short, abrupt horizontal lines... kind of like shoulders... and then a neck, a chin and with a sudden and **paralyzing horror, Draco found himself staring at the inches away curved nose of Severus Snape.**

*******

It did not take long, after all, for Ginny to once more find herself in yet another predicament.

Actually, she was _amazed_ at how fast things actually had progressed from the time she walked up the stair to her dorm, remembered her guilt at keeping the bastard's dirty wand for so long, turned back down, seen Ron and Hermione, changed her mind again, walked up, stopped, growled and bolted out of the portrait hole, and she found trouble.

She supposed, in that very prominent and insane recess of her mind, that if there was ever an author of her life, this fast pace would have been terribly convenient for the stalling plot line.

Once she had found herself face to face- or rather, shin to face- with Mrs. Norris however, she had thought, _if there _is_ anyone who is writing my life, they must be a total bitch. _Scowl gripping her features, Ginny thought that surely it would have been a much more entertaining read if The Pretty and Unfortunate Heroine of the tale had a timely and nocturnal run-in with the Brave and Dashing _Hero _of the story, like Harry or something, rather than the Bloody Annoying _Cat. _Grunting low in disappointment, Ginny extended an imaginary rude finger at the imaginary author.

_Stupid author. How about I try writing _your _life story. Then we'll see who gets more reviews. _

Staring into the lamplight eyes of the little black cat, Ginny waited for it to turn its tail and go to rat on her so Ginny could make her escape, but it simply stood there and continued to watch her. Ginny might have found this unnerving, but she had long decided that Mrs. Norris was definitely one of the many unexplained mysteries of the castle, which everyone but her seemed to be blind to. So, for an uncertain length of time Ginny continued staring back, wondering if the batty old cat could fathom her intentions somehow.

_Can cats even be "batty"? _

Allowing herself a small meandering into the world of Useless Tangents, Ginny wondered.

_No, _she eventually resolved, while it continued to not move and stared up at her_, cats would be "catty". _But for some reason, Mrs. Norris had never particularly struck Ginny as very "catty". Perhaps the reason was the same as the niggling suspicion she had about Mrs. Norris' depth of character in Hogwarts saga. But mostly, Ginny suspected, it was probably because "Mrs. Norris" was just about the most un-catly cat name she had ever heard of.

Ginny's eyes narrowed.

Mrs. Norris blinked.

Ginny felt a small, unsettling leap of "aha!" in her heart.

_So, Mrs. Norris_. _I have caught onto something here, have I? _Vainly, Ginny wondered if it would be possible fodder for black mail. _How about I keep my mouth shut, and you go along and pretend you never saw me, _she tried. Mrs. Norris looked disdainfully back.

She needed some real dirt on the care keeper's sidekick. Like an illicit squib-animal relationship, or something.

Or an unregistered animagus-

Ginny's eyebrows did a funny leap.

As if she had read her mind, Mrs. Norris' tail twitched at the noise and she seemed to peer even more intensely at Ginny suddenly, and then- with another uncatlike twitch- before Ginny could even open her mouth, she turned her bony back, and slunk unerringly into the darkness.

"Wha-?" Ginny began, startled, when all her thoughts were put to a complete stop by another voice.

"Mrs. Norris?"

***

_Quick! _he thought: _Stop breathing! Stop! No breathing. Don't move. Freeeeze. One with the wall, _one _with the wall. Draco Malfoy, you are stone. The wall. Think grey and invisible. _

Horrified pause.

_...Grey and invisible! _

Belated realization.

_Oh! _

_Ah! Invisible! Move, move, move! Oh, no! Can't move.... He's moving, he's going to move, he's going to move towards her-him-_it_- they have a love affair! Oh my god, they have a love affair, and I am grey, invisible stone that needs to move and I can't move. _

_I'm dead. I'mdeadI'mdeadI'mdead. _

_They're going to hug, they're going to snog right here with me in the middle. Invisible. Legs! Oh god!_

_Faaak!_

Draco wanted to throttle his brain. His thoughts were not being useful at all! He had to rely on instincts. And feeling so appallingly close to his head of House, Draco's instincts immediately bid him to lunge away.

Holding onto the fistfuls of invisible fabric for dear life, Draco lunged. There was a flurry of scenery, a sharp intake of breath behind him, his foot caught at something and his forward sailing action tipped suddenly. Draco hugged his still clenched fists around him, refusing to have the cloak fall off now, not now that he had just been witness to something he should have never seen, _did not want to see, even if he were invited!-_

The floor smashed against his shoulder and a small muffle of pain escaped him. Almost immediately, the blood drained from his body. If the flurry of his movement hadn't given it away, or the sudden gust of wind, or thudding sound against the floor, Draco was sure that his cry must have finally announced his invisible presence because suddenly the silent darkness of the corridor was thick with tension and weighing down on him. Biting inside of his cheek and holding his breath for dear life, Draco slowly turned his head for the second time in under one minute and risked a glance towards the Professorish direction.

The dull pain in his shoulder diminished instantaneously, as with confused terror, Draco realized that Severus Snape was looking straight at him. Even in the dim light Draco could see that they were narrowed, and panic clouding his mind, Draco prayed to the great Rowling god that the cloak was still on him, and that Snape didn't know about Potter's invisibility cloak.

----

Draco was praying.

He could not remember the last time he had actually _prayed- _but he was doing so now, and it was beginning to feel distinctly useless. He was curled on his side, trying to breathe as little as possible while watching Snape's dangerously trembling figure wavering between thought and action.

_Please, oh, please,__ let him not remember the cloak, let him not have even heard of the cloak! _He prayed. _Let him not think I'm Potter, or I'm screwed, completely screwed! _

Snape's hand moved into the inside pocket of his cloak, and Draco decided that it was time to stop breathing altogether.

He was screwed.

Sinistra was standing stock still as well, poised for some kind intense action, but from her lidded expression (which Draco hoped was "I must sneeze, Severus), he doubted posed any kind of danger to him.

"Sevvy, dar-" she began.

"SHH!" Snape snapped.

Sliding sluggishly back against the cold wall once more, Draco's felt his stomach coiling painfully, and felt his spirituality escalate considerably in an instant. Draco clamped his mouth shut, his nails digging into the cloak as he became hyper-self conscious.

He could smell the faint scent of peppermint which he guessed was Potter's lingering detergent on the cloak, as if he had bathed himself with it. The dab of men's perfume that he applied that morning assailed his nasal cavity until he felt slightly dizzy, and heart quailing with regret, he begged the Nostril gods for Snape's to have suddenly been struck invalid and not catch whiff of Draco's stupidity.

_I am never again wearing cologne,_ he vowed. _Just let him not sniff me out. _

But far from wanting to smell his location, Snape had other ideas. Raising his wand with a face full of determined ire, Draco watched with clenched muscles as Snape opened his mouth wide, circled his wand in an arc, and yelled:

"_Accio_, cloak!"

-----

"You called, Mrs. Norris? What is it?"

Ginny squeaked. It was Filch! She didn't even pause to think about how the cat could possibly have _called _her master; and in the space of time it took for Filch to turn the corner into Ginny's corridor, she was halfway down the hall and sprinting for the closest stairs- leading up or down.

"A STUDENT OUT OF BED!" Filch's voice hollered behind her, as he sighted her streaking figure and suddenly there was a fire spewing from the heels of her feet. Crossing her fingers mid-dash, Ginny hoped to Merlin that he could not see her streaming hair in the dim light. The red would be a sure give away.

_Please, oh, please let him have developed a severe eye condition!_

"STOP! I- you are not getting away, this time-" gasp, "-Mrs. Norris run, run!"

Ginny ran blindly in the darkness, relying on pure memory to avoid colliding into any walls. From either side she could hear the rousing murmuring of the subjects of the portraits, as they blinked awake, no doubt, to see what the racket was about. She heard a few affronted "hey, now!"s and "young la..", but she was running to fast, and fervently wished that they would all shut up and stop aiding in her potential identification.

Holding out an arm blindly on the off chance that some obstruction, despite the five years worth of memorization, Ginny turned a sharp right at the end of another corridor, aiming, she hoped, for the winding staircase which lead secretly to the Entrance Hall.

The panting and hobbling sounds of the caretaker behind her did not slow down.

She was nearing the end of the fourth floor, and swore. There were no torches here and it was pitch black.

Hearing the continued hollering of the caretaker not far behind her, Ginny realized that she had no other choice. Sending a mental "you will never have me alive!" Ginny took a deep breath and plunged into the darkness. Her feet moved fast, hopping from step to step, and she kept one hand grazing the spiraling wall to her left. Her feet ran on autopilot. From experience she knew that if you ever tried to _think _about your feet when going down a set of stairs, you were guaranteed to fall.

Groping at the wall for a railing, Ginny's adrenaline made the darkness feel like it was whirling around her.

_Oh shit, oh shit, I'm gonna fall! _She thought, and just then a dim but startling flood of light streamed from behind her. It felt like it was directly behind her and she almost had a seizure, but then she heard the faint and ever receding sounds Filch's hobbling much further up the stairs.

Ginny began pounding her way down in earnest. She knew she was making an absolute racket, but at this point she didn't give the smallest puffskin's arse. Filch might hobble down stairs, but animagus or not, she knew Mrs. Norris could _run. _

_Shit!_

It was time's like this that Ginny wished Harry's invisibility cloak would be mass produced. At this point, she would have eben been happy with a less blatant hair color, but apparently, Harry got all the benefits.

_Damn that Potter!_ Scarlet Fevah yelled.

Silently, Ginny agreed.

That beautiful, lithe hero of the wizarding world-

Her foot jammed against something and suddenly Ginny's balance wobbled. _OH HELL-!_

Caught in the momentum of her spiraling, Ginny swayed left, hands outstretched before her and whirling in a very face-forward fashion there was a loud BANG, and she slammed right into thick wood.

There was a deafening creak, and loud gasping sounds coming from behind her. Heaving, Ginny forgot all about the jarring pain instantaneously, and flung herself out to freedom.

--------------------------------------------------

**Review!** Would really appreciate any critizism. Tell me if it is too pointless, or ify, or dragging.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: The Blah. **

A/N: Once again, this is a compacted version of the same things you guys have read, for those of you who have already read these chapters- so don't bother. :) _But read the end note and give me a suggestion quick please if you can/want!!!_

* * *

**Cornered**

"_Accio_, cloak!"

Draco frowned in confusion for all of about a quarter of a second. There was a flutter around him, and suddenly the fluid material in his clenched fists was tugging and escaping from his fingers. His first instinct was to let go in fright- _cloaks don't move!- _but then cold, cruel realization trickled down his spine, and almost too late, Draco's arms launched in front of him, fumbling frantically until he caught hold of, and fastened onto the folds of slippery fabric once more, holding on for dear life.

With a kind of convulsion, his knees curled to his chin, and his hands, holding the jerking cloak firmly, wound underneath them. The wand tip was now pointing straight at where he was, and Draco almost thought for a second that Snape had located him, but then, while he struggled invisibly, the point wavered, and Snape's arm swerved slightly to Draco's right, yelling "_accio_ cloak!" again, haphazardly.

With each utterance, Draco felt the material wrenching to get free, it's ends flipping up, threatening to expose his feet until he had to stomp on the hem with his toes.

He was so busy in his struggle that he almost lost his balance when a new voice joined the silent, but deadly fray.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN HIDE FROM ME?!" came the unmistakable, shrieking tones of Argus Filch, and Draco barely managed to swallow a horrified groan.

_This is all that bleeding Weasley's fault! _Draco suddenly thought, acidic bile tickling the back of his throat. If it weren't for that bloody do-gooder, he wouldn't be in any of this mess at all! His dignity would have been in eminent shape, his privates would have been comfortably Potter's taint-free, and he would never have found himself at the receiving end of his infamous head of House's wrath. And now he had to deal with Filch!

_Is there anything else you want to add? _He asked the Universe.

The corridor was only so wide, if Filch decided to walk down it, Draco had absolutely no chance of escaping undiscovered.

_Well, hell,_ thought Draco in slumping resignation.

As if thinking the same thing Snape's spell lost its hold quite suddenly. Losing his balance at the sudden loss of tension, Draco's back hit the wall with a thump. The sound was completely masked by Filch's yelling however, as he seemed to be coming closer.

"Mrs. Norris, don't let the brat get away. Fourth past-curfew outbreaks in a week! I will have Dumbledore know this time. There is no way he can deny us a flogging this time! Flogging and detention for a year! Tiresome, bloody welps! When I get my hands on -!"

Watching the two Professors apprehensively, Draco took a moment to collect himself. Glancing to his immediate left, Draco theorized that perhaps, with some very slimming effort, he could conceivably slip past the unnervingly still Sinistra and reach the safe sancuary of his House common room. But feeling the jittery state of his skeleton, Draco quickly discarded this idea entirely. Pressing his back against the wall, and beginning a slow process of sliding up to a standing position, Draco instead, looked directing in front of him at Snape.

The pasty features engraved with a livid scowl seemed to be deepening and gaining more contortions by the minute, but to Draco's intense relief, they were now turned towards the caretaker's ever rising voice.

Gulping, Draco waited for the Professor to decide if he was planning on unleashing any more surprise attacks on the invibility cloak, or if Filch had completely caught his attention.

With the right distraction, Draco decided, he could book it back down the way he had come and hide somewhere until they were gone.

"…hang him upside down in the dungeons, I still have a room prepared for the day the headmaster signs th-"

"Argus!" Snape's angry bark rang in the empty corridor and was answered by a ringing silence.

"P-professor Snape?" Came the hesitant reply finally.

"Yes, it is I," Snape snapped impatiently. "What is the meaning of this ruckus? In case you hadn't noticed, it is well past midnight."

Draco shifted quietly towards the more spacious end of the corridor, leading towards the Entrance Hall. Stepping toe-first, Draco did his utmost not to make a sound, as he slid slowly past Snape.

_Don't smell me! Don't smell me! _He silently chanted, hurrying his steps.

"B- But Professor Snape, sir, a student…" came Filch's suddenly much more tamed and deferential voice.

"I am aware that there is a student on the prowl, you idiotic man! And he's wearing an invisibility cloak! Now stay quiet, and help me find him, instead of aimlessly hollering-!"

"Invisibility…? But I just-."

"Silence, you foolish man! And stay where you are, and make sure nothing walks past! He's over here."

Draco's heart seemed to have stopped beating, but he continued his trek towards Filch's voice. He didn't know how Filch had figured out he was out here, but he found that his terror completely obliterated any amount of respect he might possibly have gained for the shriveling old caretaker.

Looking back at Snape, Draco saw that he was waving his arm steadily in front of him with that same dangerous expression on his face that he took on whenever Longbottom's potion turned an unhealthy purple. Behind him, Sinistra finally moved as well, and seemed to follow suit, making sure that Draco could not possibly escape in the other direction.

Tensing from head to toe, and looking back at the only remotely hopeful direction, Draco thought if he just got to the corner before Filch did….

All three parties had gone dead silent, and Draco inanely felt as if he was put on highly acoustic, domed opera stage with a giant spot light and a sore throat. Even the sliding of his muscles seemed to resound in his ears.

Draco found himself desperately wishing he had never stolen the wretched cloak in the first place. Sure, Sinistra might have taken some points away for hall wandering, but at least he would have been assured of his _life_.

Draco wondered what he would say if he were caught at this point. _It's alright Professor, we all need love, _he imagined, but even in his mind it did not sound very convincing.

_I have always had a secret, mad passion for Professor Sinistra, as well" _also failed to sound very honest.

Swallowing another lump in his throat, Draco decided to completely obliterate the mental monologue, and instead focused on the darkness ahead of him. It would not have done if he had walked right into the prickly bastard. As if awaiting Draco's mental queue, Filch appeared out of nowhere five feet before Draco.

If Draco could have, he would have sworn.

The man's lined face, in the darkness looked ghostly, his eyes wide and swerving in their sockets, as if he thought he could pierce through the invisibility cloak through sheer will. His arms were outstretched like Snape's, and grazed the stone walls on either side as he entered into the much narrower corridor and there was a morbid determination in his stance which Draco found that he really did not like.

_I'm SCREWED!_

Bringing both of his lips into his mouth and biting them shut, Draco bent his knees until he was about half his normal height. The caretaker's extended arms were still too low. Thinking extremely fast, Draco surmised that he would have to crawl underneath. Ducking his head in preparation, Draco was just about to do just that when Filch's arm abruptly jerked down, clearly suspecting the very same thing, and groped at the empty air lower down the wall.

When he found nothing, his arms swung back up. Draco froze in horror.

After a pause of uncertainty, Filch decided that the gaping space was definitely a flaw in his defenses, and promptly began to wave both of his arms in the air from shoulder to sides. Flicking a wide-eyed glance at the space to his side, Filch's expression turned calculating, and then just as abruptly, his knees collapsed, and he slumped knees bent, arms waving, making absolutely sure that nothing could crawl beneath his arms.

Draco watched the ancient warden with his jowls quivering, his eyes wide as cauldrons, and his arthritic joints manically waving at the arms, and creakily shuffling at the legs and felt his stomach clench. A wave of hysterical laughter pushed against the back of his throat, and tears sprang in his eyes. Cornered desperately against the wall, Draco inched backwards knowing full well that Snape was probably using the same method behind him. Knowing full well that he absolutely lacked the kind of self-control required to keep his laughter at bay if he saw that, Draco smartly decided against glancing behind him.

All he could do at this point was delay the inevitable for as long as possible, and hope to whatever deity Potter prayed to that simply by virtue of being a Malfoy, all would go easy on him, and he would not end up getting expelled.

***

It had been such a close shave that Ginny felt like she should have had a bald spot on her head.

The old man, despite both his age and mal-health was only one turn of the winding stairs behind her when she had broken through the door and made a mad dash for the Entrance Hall. She could not remember ever running so fast in her life. Her breath came out in stinging puffs, her eyes were blurred seeing moving shapes in every corner, and there was an odd and disheartening burning sensation all along her muscles.

Ginny really did not see the point in having muscles, if they did not naturally maintain their fitness.

_We don't all have the luxury of being chased around by hyenas all the time! _

Ginny shook a mental fist.

Almost stumbling in her haste, Ginny stepped out at the end of the corridor, at last, where the ceiling above her rose in a sudden steep climb to the domed height of the Entrance Hall. Behind shadowy pillars across where she stood, Ginny could just make out the closed doors of the Great Hall. At a bang behind her, Ginny dived sideways, in the direction of the marble staircase.

Almost instantly, Ginny wanted to kick herself. If she had dived the other way she could have snuck out the Entrance doors and hid outside in the bushes. But now that she was on the opposite side, the only way she could do that was to cross the corridor opening again, and risk being seen. A risk that would totally ruin the whole point in her sneaking out in the first place.

Damn.

Heaving a rather long and untimely sigh of regret, Ginny looked around wildly while her ear perked towards Filch's nearing footeteps, ready to send a siren when it became too close. Meanwhile, Ginny's eyes roved the perimeter to search every potential hiding spot, but all the options seemed to blatantly obvious.

Ach! Ginny mind-screamed. Swiveling her eyes to the huge doors of the Great Hall, Ginny tried to measure her chances of getting across the unobstructed terrain, with the, once again, indubitable chance of crossing the oncoming caretaker's line of sight. Realizing that once there she would also need to getting those massive oaks to open- if they were not magically locked- Ginny quickly dispatched that idea. There were tall columns that jutted at the outskirts of the hall in a circular fashion, but she knew that she could only inch behind them and remain hidden if there had only been one person in her pursuit. _But thanks to bloody Mrs. I think I'm A Cat, Eventhough It's Apparent That I'm Clearly Not, that's not an option either._

_Damn, _she thought again.

Ginny was right on the brink of hyperventilating when the ear siren gave a shriek.

Ginny almost shrieked in response but luckily, her tongue had turned to solid rock. Before she could even think about it, Ginny had swerved left and was dashing towards the nearest pillar, determined to play it for as long as she possible could, her wand automatically clutched in her hand.

She was behind the first glowing white artifice when Filch turned the corner yelling. Under the domed and echoing ceiling of the entrance hall, the very acute thumping sounds of the old man and his cat's feet became ten times louder, sending Ginny's heart into a race. Trying desperately to listen, Ginny realized that the reverberating sound was now making it impossible for her to judge where the hell exactly the stupid man was.

Breathing in deep through her nose, Ginny turned around and hugged herself close to the vast column. Inching her way to one side Ginny attempted to peer out with as little of her face showing as possible. With a mighty jolt of relief, Ginny's eye poked out right when Filch's back turned, now announcing his pledge for revenge to the school at large.

_Idiot man! He's going to attract all the teachers out of their beds at this rate! _

Biting her lip in irritation, Ginny wracked her brain harder than ever. How come Harry never got into crap like this? she wondered. And as if had been waiting for her to ask this question, the tip of her wand scraped gently against the smooth surface of the stone. Jumping a little in surprise, Ginny thought, _Aha.. Magic! _

_I should be expelled, _she thought in shame. As if called by her thoughts, Filch whipped around. _Eep! _Snatching back her hand, Ginny hastily tucked herself behind the safety of the pillar's shade.

_Careful what you wish for!_

Gulping a ginormous ball of phlegm, Ginny grabbed her wand in two hands and brought it in front of her, face gripped in the utmost concentration. _Alright, Ginny, _Scarlet Fevah paced behind her eyelids, fists curled in the passionate beginnings of a very effective pep-talk: _you are a witch. _Eyelids drooping slightly, Ginny hoped like hell that this was going to be worth it. _And, _pause,_ as a witch, magic flows through you like... _

_...Like air through an unsealed hole, _she finished off lamely, taking a slightly at-a-loss, imaginary deep breath.

_So... _

Ginny waited, eyes fastened to the long shaft of wood before her. In the darkness it seemed even longer than its actual 8 1\2 inches length and Ginny felt confused for a moment.

_So... _Scarlet Fevah recovered, _you have to use a spell. Yes. A very ingenious spell which will somehow turn time back about 3 hours, and you can decide instead of following Harry, to go up your little dormitory stairs, and slip right into your safe, warm little bed and go to sleep early. _

Ginny frowned. She didn't think she knew any spells like that.

Or?

_Or... an ingenius spell... which will.... _Scarlet Fevah trialed off, the enthusiasm that had spurred her first two words now completely gone. Ginny, throat spasmodically gulping now, shoulders tense, waited with eyebrows raised. She almost expected a bolt of lightening to hit her mental prototype, but if anything, the fiery red hair only blazed more strongly than ever -

And suddenly something clicked in her mind. Her hair... it was such a give away, no matter where she managed to lurk, so the only effective means of protection _was _to become invisible. _Huh. _She didnt know how, and she didnt have a cloak... but when Mad-Eye Moody had picked them up from The Burrow last year to go to Grimmauld Place, he had cast a disillusionment charm on them all! That was it!

Rather pathetically, Scarlet Fevah finished_ -which will make you invisible! _

Ginny rolled her eyes, but her heart suddenly felt like it was a slimy something on the back of her tongue. Its thumping jarred through her brain, as Ginny moved the too-long wand to her scalp, closed her eyes, tapped once whispering "_Novitus!"_

For a moment nothing happened, but a weak tremor of magic coursing through the wand. Then, like a sigh, something felt like it got deposited from the end of the shaft and trickled wet and thick over her head, rapidly covering her entire length. Ginny felt the tingling charm rolling over her torso, and looked down to see her clothes diminishing into the dim, white marble of the column behind her. Her candy blue buttons disappeared, and slowly the faded pink with the yellow dancing duckies in her pajama bottoms melted away as well. Ginny felt a surge of happiness in the form of a giant smile stretch across her face. She could still see the outline of her clothes and the lines of the folds, but they were just like bleary silhouettes against the air. Bringing down her wand to admire her non-hands, Ginny felt the tip catch at a lock of her hair. Shaking her head, Ginny watched with dawning horror as bright, flaming locks of hair moved across her vision.

What the _hell?! _Taking the wand back to her head, Ginny repeated the charm again, holding out her hair and just tapping the wand against the strands, but nothing continued to happen.

Ginny panicked.

_"Novitus! Novitus! Novitus!" _she repeated over and over, and then nearly screamed when something furry and alive brushed against her shin. Looking down with wide eyes, Ginny stared right into the lamp-like eyes of Mrs Norris.

"What's there Mrs. Norris?" came Filch's excited voice from not very far behind. Ginny jumped, and the cat meowed. Shaking in a sudden shot of fight-or-flight, Ginny grabbed the neck of her top, in a mad, desperate impulse, and yanked it up, over her head.

"You found the devious little culprit, did you? Heh Heh... You're caught now you vile-"

The cotton slid over her shoulders, and was up her neck, blocking her vision, just as Filch's breathing came from around the curve of the column. Blindly, Ginny pressed herself against the pillar and circled the other way. There was another "meeeoow," and Ginny realized that the cat was following her. Blinded, she just hoped to all that was good and holy that her skin was disillusioned. Although a nude, hovering torso might have been just the thing to frighten the old care-taker away, it would have been ridiculously humiliating. Not to mention that the freckles would have been very suggestive evidence.

"Come on little student, there is nowhere to hide now..." Filch was saying, circling the pillar himself. Lungs heaving, Ginny shifted further away. The shirt twisted a little more and she found one of the gaps between the buttons widen in front of her eyes. Glancing down quickly Ginny was reassured that her skin was a comfortable mix of moonlight and marble.

Filch's voice got closer again, and Ginny shifted carefully this time, not to lose her eye-hole. She knew that once they had circled the pillar once, Filch would get smarter and try to catch her the other way, and then it was only a matter of time before he became unpredictable and he caught her. Feeling a cold shiver up her spine, Ginny realized that he would probably grab, too. This thought ignited another mad impulse to shriek; she did not want his arthritic hands anywhere near her skin, let alone skin-to-skin around her middle.

But where the hell was she supposed to go?!

***

By the time Harry reached the corridor leading up to the portrait hole, his head felt like it was about to split. Vaguely, he wondered if he should go down to the Hospital Wing and get it checked, but the humiliation of admitting that Malfoy had actually gotten him was too overbearing, so instead he kept walking towards the two dimensional lair of the Fat Lady, veins stinging with indignant fury. The prat had even somehow stumbled over his carefully hidden cloak and snatched it. Harry could not believe he had been stupid enough to have given the boy a fair fight. But the worst part was that, since he had lied about being at Dumbledore's office, there was no one that he could admit any of it to, either.

He felt so dishonorable.

But really, he had _known _that Malfoy was up to something, and he had been _right_. But for some reason, this year Ron and Hermione did not seem to care in the least. Secretly, Harry knew that it was because they had noticed something far more interesting- raging hormones, and each other- but he was perfectly happy not delving too deep into that insight, so Harry insisted on his bafflement.

_I mean, Malfoy is _part _of the whole evil we're trying to defeat! _ Why couldn't they see?

And now he could not even shove it in their faces, because he had lied. He had lied and he had had his cloak stolen, and he had a _really _sore head.

His dignity was another matter, entirely. Harry liked to think that at some point during sleeping in a closet and getting his trashed by the Womping Willow, he had gotten over that.

But this, _this _was indignity of a manly sort, and Harry did not think that he could just ignore it. In fact, the very same circumstance of his outrage, also happened to put the entire school in danger, so he technically had the right to be doubly outraged. Who knew what havoc Malfoy with wreak upon the school now_? _

In the darkness, emerald eyes narrowed. Clenching his right fist in front of him just as a lucky and unlikely breeze whirled in the hallway around him, Harry vowed that he was going to make Malfoy pay, even if he had to curse him in the Great Hall, in front of Dumbledore.

Feeling somewhat accomplished, Harry frowned, returning his hand back to the back of his head to rub the sore spot, and randomly remembering the parchment that he had risked such abuse for.

_Hah! _Harry thought in a rare moment of vindictive satisfaction, as he realized that in his haste to get away, Malfoy must have forgotten all about it. He supposed that he had nothing but Slytherin cowardice to thank for that.

Pulling away the hand still idling through his hair, Harry muttered the password- "_intrepidity_"- and climbed through the hole in the wall.

The sight that greeted him as the portrait swung shut behind him made the pain in his head immediately slink to the recess of his mind. Two meters away, under roughly strewn drapes and a slightly open window lay the twin corpses of his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

***

And then she saw it- another corridor, wider slightly than the one that she had come out of, but depressed into the floor, no doubt, leading down to the dungeons. Surprised, Ginny faintly recalled taking it years ago for detention with Snape.

_Awesome! _she nearly announced out loud. Instead, biting on her tongue to make sure she made no unnecessary noises, Ginny crept forwards really slowly, glancing behind her and finding, not suprisingly, Mrs Norris staring right at her. The end of Filch's night robe just flickered forward when she turned around, sick of tarrying, and booked it in a stream of wavering ripples through the air before diving into the corridors shadowy depths.

Tucking herself safely there, Ginny frantically wretched her arms from the mass of crumpled cotton and got the shirt off her head entirely.

Beyond the threshold, Ginny saw Filch finally turn the corner, and not surprisingly, decide to make a fast circle the other way. As Ginny watched, he leaped one way and then changing his mind zoomed in the opposite direction, circling the pillar with his arm outstretched before him so fast that she thought he was going to fall. Biting her lip to prevent the laugh bursting to get out, she shook out the top and quickly wound it around her head, to hide her hair.

"Oh, Mrs Norris, this time when I find him, there will be no getting away. No useless detentions polishing the trophies! Pah! No, not after the doors Dolorous- my precious Dolly!- opened here. Even Dumbledore can't stop me this time!"

Tying her sleeves into a safe, 40's-style knot below her chin, Ginny felt her lips curl in a snarl.

Tucking in stray strands of her still not un-disllusioned hair that stuck out, Ginny heard the old man's grumbling, between puffs of breath, gain volume.

"Too soft on them... real lesson…hang him upside down in the dungeons, I still have a room prepared for the day the headmaster decides to come around-"

Mrs Norris meowed evilly, and Ginny saw her creep over towards the corridor, calling Filch's eyes to her. Ginny spun around and ran two steps into the darkness when-

"Argus!"

Ginny's heart stopped.

A painful, full second of ringing silence passed while Ginny's eyes felt like they were ready to take leave of their sockets, blindly trying to accommodate both her horror and the limited size of her pupils. As her shock slowly settled into morbid fear, Ginny registered the smooth, icy tone as Snape the Potion Master's.

_Great, that's just great, _Ginny thought. She had absolute no idea how she was going to escape now.

_This time I'm really screwed. I know I always think I'm screwed, and this has not been my night at all- maybe it's some kind of unholy Malfoy God retribution for my too elated, elation in the beginning of the week for kicking his arse, but I'm _definitely _screwed this time. _Ginny felt beads of sweat pop above her top lip and resisted the temptation to wipe it with the back of her hand.

_No sudden movements. _

Behind her, Ginny could hear Filch gathering his own wits.

"P-professor Snape?" Came the hesitant reply finally.

"Yes, it is I," Snape impatient snap followed somewhere from the shadows that Ginny had been planning on dashing into. "What is the meaning of this ruckus? In case you hadn't noticed, it is well past midnight."

The voice sounded far enough down, and Ginny, cornered, delicately placed a foot before her. _Ah! There had better be a branching corridor somewhere between me and Snape, or my days in Hogwarts are over. _Between Filch and Snape- literally- there was going to be no mercy if she were caught.

Reaching out a hand before her and trialing the other one along the stones beside her, Ginny took another hesitant step in front of her.

Shuffling his feet and walking closer to the steps behind her, Ginny heard the caretaker's voice, lowered and defensive say, "B- But Professor Snape, sir, a student…"

"I am aware that there is a student on the prowl, you idiotic man! And he's wearing an invisibility cloak! Now stay quiet, and help me find him, instead of aimlessly hollering-!"

Ginny squeaked, her eyes squinting before her. What? Where _was _he? Ginny whipped her head around, bewildered. _Oh my god, he knows! __I don't even know _how _he knows, the stupid bloody slimy git, but there is no point hiding anymore._

_I'm dead._ _It's not even just an expression, he's a DeathEater, and he is going to _kill_ me, because he hates me and my entire family, and I am prowling too near his dungeons, and WHO ELSE walks around the halls in the middle of the night except creepy Death Eater professors who could see through disillusionment charms and -_

_Wait. _

Ginny frowned. No... he had said "invisibility cloak". Ginny's brain wheeled rapidly through this new piece of information. The only "he" who was not a Slytherin, had an invisibility cloak and would definitely bring a labored excitement into Snape's voice, if he thought he had him, was Harry. And Ginny knew for a fact that Harry was out this night.

_Aha! _Ginny thought in mild hysteria. _What was that about Harry never getting into messes like this? _

Behind her, Filch finally seemed to grapple with his own confusion: "Invisibility…? But I just-."

"Silence, you foolish man!" Snape's labored voice came from much closer ahead. "Stay where you are, and make sure nothing walks past! He's over here."

* * *

**Review!** Hmm.. can't decide.. should Ginny come to the rescue, or should she chicken out and Draco accidentally saves them both??


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer-ed**

**Author's Note:** Thank you everyone for your support. This haphazard story definitely does not deserve it, so thanks a bloody million! Every time I hear that you guys like some bit or other, I experience a mild case of "authorgasm". You're the best. I am especially appreciative of FaithfulHPreader, for the awesomeness, and the honesty when I'm starting to suck. lol.

Cheers.

* * *

**Mad Potter: A Devious Plot**

By the time it occurred to Draco all the reasons why it was _not _a good idea to be making deals with the devil, when he was already at a very low point in his student career, and due for a Death Eater initiation, he was stumbling at the top-most steps of the Marble Staircase, with a pounding ache on the top of his skull, a very warm and soft _human _something hanging over his shoulder, and it was far too late. Not the least of said reasons being that if he were any kind of even remotely honorable man, he would have taken the damn cloak off, laid the entire thing at Potter's feet and sought a full pardon and gotten to his bed in bliss. But some damnable cowardice had finally found him at the end of all his wit and cunning, cornered him like a bastard and left him with no choice.

So he had prayed. Again.

This time, in earnest.

_Merlin, _he begged, _I swear to all the worldly pleasures that I cherish, if you get me out of this one, I will be good for the rest of my Hogwarts life. _

Even distracted by the suddenly very real early mortality of said life, Draco did not fail to discern the pure charge of Disbelief that suddenly strained the air around him.

_Alright, _he conceded, _how about I promise to be good for__ the rest of this week? _

Filch shuffled closer. There was a disturbance in the darkness behind the old man, but Draco did not notice. A bit indignant at the faith the universe seemed to put in him, Draco frowned.

_This _night_...?_

Snape's breath huffed about three feet behind him.

_Fine! _Hell. _I'll do _one_ good deed. First opportunity that presents itself, _Draco stared at the air around him in exasperation.

And then he saw it.

Filch's shadow was moving. And not insyc with him either. Taken completely by surprise, Draco squinted against the blotting fabric of the cloak and blinked several times. The shadow was not a shadow at all. Extending from where Filch's shadow streamed behind him, it wavered through the air, like a haze behind the old man, but a haze that was taller than him, with legs, and… hips? Draco's eyebrows drew together in complete bewilderment. The haze wavered and streamed to the side, so it was difficult to see, but Draco could just make out a torso, and arms and- _woah! _Draco nearly gasped. Settled over rippling, airy shoulders sat a massive contorted _mass _for a head.

_Alright. _Draco gulped. _So I never actually expected to get an answer._ He could not imagine one single magical creature in the world that might possibly fit the bill. Uncertainty trickled down his spine. On the other hand, he told himself, queasily, all of the lethal ones were part of the Malfoy Mansion collection, so he would have known about it.

The incorporeal _thing_ shifted closer and was very soon right behind Filch. There was a pause; Filch's waving arms slowed; the breathing behind Draco hitched, and then a shriek!-

"_Weeeeeeoooww!"_

Draco cringed, something clawed and loud streaked past his head just as he jerked away, and collided with the too-close professor behind him.

Not waiting to make sense of the situation, Draco saw his queue to bolt in the form of a large gap, beside Filch. The caretaker's arms had dropped to his side. His face looked first shocked, then frightened, and then gripped by a rage so fearsome that Draco almost hesitated as he jumped past him. The hazy something flickered past his line of vision, as if readying to follow him. Draco glanced back just as Snape clawed at the bony mass of Mrs Norris clinging onto the front of his robes and wretch her off. Draco felt an unbidden snort of laughter burst from his mouth. Too late he clamped his mouth shut, but Filch seemed to have gotten over his shock, and whipped around. The haze froze. Draco bit his lip.

Filch's arms went around it like a clamp and he screamed in triumph, "I got him! Professor! I've got him!"

Snape glared at the screeching cat in his arms and threw it to the side, advancing towards the resisting, invisible mass in the caretaker's arms. "Good!" he barked, his face white with quiet rage. "I'll have you expelled for sure this time, Potter. Sneaking around... and near the Slytherin dormitories! What were you up to, I wonder? _Planning on stealing from m-?_"

"Professor! Could I-"

"Shut up!"

Draco saw Snape grab what must have been an arm, and the shimmer stumbled. Snape gave another uncharitable tug, seemingly enjoying the thought of making Potter stumble, and he bagan the lengthy process of dragging an unwilling mass away. When he had watched the resisting group move a safe enough distance from him, Draco breathed in a great sigh of relief: that could have been _him! _

He could not believe his luck! He had thought he was going to be trapped and caught in the worst way possible for sure this time! To imagine what the Headmaster would have done, knowing Draco had stolen his precious Potter's invisibility cloak. He would have been murdered by the Order for sure! Or worse, he could have been expelled! Expelled! What would his father do if he found Draco expelled!?

Following safely behind, Draco readied to turn the next rght towards the Slytherin common room entrance.

He waited outside the stone door for Snape's outline to disappear at the next corner, leading down to his office, when a sudden and very foreign twinge assailed his senses. Glancing towards his Head of House' retreating shadow, Draco felt the twinge intensify.

_One good deed. _

Gah! Draco clenched his resting hand into a fist. He hadn't expected the opportunity to come so soon. _In case you haven't noticed, Merlin, _he thought, _I've had a rough night. I'm tired. And following the same trouble that I just begged you to save me from is the last thing I'm going to do!_

But the stumbling image of the invisible-thing-with-giant-head passed through his head again. Hand raised, ready to push the stone door, he hesitated. He was _so _close to freedom. And it was a Merlin-sent apparition, it could take care of itself. It wasn't like it was going to get _expelled. _Unlike him! Snape would probably not even do anything to it.

_Except bottle it up in one of his jars and use it for mad-magician experiments, _interjected his hitherto undetected conscience.

Guilty pause.

With a groan in the back of his throat, Draco pushed his hand against the entrance roughly, propelling to a run after the group. Swearing under his breath, he made a quick vow to burn down the next Merlin effigy he ever passed.

He turned left at the bend, jumping down the small flight of steps, and turned another corner. It took only a couple of steps from there, around the curving wall, until he finally saw the light from the slightly ajar door of the office streaming into the hall. Slowing down, Draco inched forward.

"...doesn't matter. You will just have to be expelled invisibly, Potter. I don't much care to see your arrogant face in my office, anyhow...

"Just like your father, you are, Potter. Always think you're above all the rules, and yet terribly lacking the tact to stay out of trouble. Well fame, and manipulative charisma is only going to take you so far..."

"Could I, Professor, please,... I have the menacles ready..."

"Oh stop your sniveling, Filch! Dumbledore said no chain-torture on students! He hasn't changed his mind in the 50 years you've been begging him, why would you think it's suddenly okay now?"

Draco bit his tongue to keep from snorting. He peered through the gap and saw that Snape was no longer holding on to... Draco blinked. In the light, the apparition was no longer visible at all. Filch was standing off to the side with his arms hovering apart, eyes darting, looking even more bitter than usual.

_Where is it?!_ Draco thought in sudden panic. If they realized that it was gone, they would bolt out and catch him here, instead. Draco wondered if he shimmered in the dark too. He had to get out of here, but... _Oh bloody, bloody hell. _

The air behind the gap took on a mirage-like quality, as if the heat in the room had just spiked. Draco rubbed his eyes stupidly before he realized that he was looking _through_ the apparition and his heartrate quadrupled. Without thinking, muscles tensed, stance ready, he gave a yell and wildly flung open the door grabbed at the haze with the big head around the middle and yanked.

There was a shriek and a flash of red just off his right, but he was running, blindly, taking the steps three at a time, half dragging, half carrying the squirming flesh in the crook of his arm- _wait, flesh? _Another spell zoomed past him, barely missing by an inch- _no time! _

Turning back into the corner of the common room, Draco paused just long enough to discard the idea of waltzing through the entrance and pointing all suspicion to himself, and to fling the fleshy, surprisingly heavy, otherworldly apparition over his shoulder before he continued his blunder into the dark.

***

Ginny was going to punch Harry in the face. The moment he stopped, the moment they were safe, and there weren't murderous jets of spells flying around them- Ginny was going to kick him. She was going to hurt him. And she was going to fling him around to see how _he _liked people dragging him backwards up stairs, twisting him with absolutely no discretion and then throwing him unceremoniously over a bony shoulder, mid-run.

She was so mad she could have cursed him! In fact, the more she got jostled around and forced to shield herself from curses that thanks to his infinite thoughtfulness, _she _was facing, Ginny planned on doing just that. The moment he stopped. The moment the world stopped whirling around her. She was going to kick him in the _sack. _

Rapidly the dark scenery of the winding dungeons begun to lighten and windows emerged from the indistinguishable darkness that swept by her. The curses became fewer and farther inbetween as the insane boy beneath her began too slow down. Ginny felt the invisible muscles underneath her tense and coil, sliding over one another as he leapt over a flight of steps, taking them three, then two, and then an exhausting one at a time. It was an eerie experience, to say the least, because although she could _feel _him, all she could see was that she was rushing backwards on air, six feet into the air. The marble steps shone white under the moonlight and orientation was slow dawning on her mind once more.

The Entrance hall, she noted. They were facing the narrow steps leading to the Gryffindor tower... but then Harry stopped with a grunt, and too suddenly Ginny found herself tipped upright again, set- gently, despite his fatigue, in a very Harry-like fashion- on her feet before she heard a thump and assumed that he had fallen over, exhausted.

Her foot twitched, but his heavy breathing and the careful way he had upturned her thawed some of the icy indignation that churned inside her stomach. She was still dizzy.

A thick lock of her hair escaped the shirt-wrap still holding her head in camouflage, and slid down her face.

"Harry?"

***

Bright red hair sprouted out of nothingness a little below the bleary mass.

Draco's blood drained.

"Weasley?" he whispered, horrified, before he could stop himself. The flaming curl waved in air, mocking him.

Draco's jaw dropped. Merlin-sent apparition be damned, it was Ginny Bloody Weasley? He had just sacrificed his status as an educated member of society for _Weasley? The _Weasley! His newly indited arch-nemesis; the one whose fault this whole night had been?

Draco felt a sick feeling spread through him like a disease. He felt betrayed.

_Note to self: Never Again. _

"Harry?"

The sick feeling paused. She thought he was Potter. It was three in the morning, she was out and in hiding, alone and probably afraid. And she thought he was Potter.

Too late, Draco attempted to fix his mistake.

"Giner.. .? Ginny!"

Silence.

"... Harry?"

Draco frowned. How long did introductions take with these people?

He decided to settle for a non-committal reply. "Er."

"Did you just call me Weasley?"

"No," he answered too-fast.

"Harry?"

"-Potter. Yes, _Gin, _that's my name. It's only about the world's second most famous name ever." He tried hard to keep the sneer from his voice but a little still managed to leak through. Weasley didn't seem to notice.

"Second most?" She sounded bemused. "What's the most famous?"

Draco hesitated. Draco was tempted to say "Salazar Slytherin," but a niggling suspicion told him that it might be pushing his luck. "The Dark Lord" seemed a bit redundant, and "Dumbledore" was like selling his own soul. Besides, he didn't think answering and then hurling vomit all over the floor would have been too convincing.

"Um. The... Weird Sisters," he said, trying to inject an implicit "_duh_".

"Uh. _Huh_." She sounded unconvinced. Maybe Potter didn't like The Weird Sisters?

"Not that I like them," he added, just to be safe.

Silence.

Maybe Potter didn't like music? Stupid Potter, why did he have to pretend to be that snarky prat, anyways?

_Because it's karma for knocking him unconscious and stealing his most prized possession. _

Draco snarled. _Oh, stuff it Conscience. Who asked _you_?_

_"_So.._._" Draco continued, pretending he was oblivious to the suddenly thickening air, but beating around for something to fill it with, nonetheless. Finally, he adopted what he imagined to be a Potterish benign tone and said, "I imagine a thank you is in order."

The air around him froze. Draco's feigned ignorance faltered. The disillusionment charm was wearing off and he could see one bright outline of a pink bra slowly materializing. Eyebrows jerking he stared harder. Was she ... shirtless?

_"Excuse me?!" _she yelled shrilly.

Draco jumped, looking up guiltily. What?

"Uh. You're welcome," he said. Again, without thinking.

"_UGH!_" Something hard hit him in the knee."Ow!" he cried out, looking up affronted.

"You arrogant prick! Snape almost had me there because of you and you think I'm going to _thank you_?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. That was rich coming from her. "_No,_" he shot back incredulously, "Snape _did _have you, and I saved you're... you. So, yes, I think I do deserve a thank you!"

"The only reason he had me at all was because _I _saved _you_!"

Draco scoffed. "I would hardly consider it _saving, _if you had to be saved back." Damn Potter for spoiling the lazy chits. What the hell did they think he was, a _god?! _Even gods required a thank you. And they certainly did not need rescuing. Blatantly refusing to acknowledge the insistent memory of his own pleas for help, Draco spat: "Besides, I don't recall ever asking you to save me." _Weasel. _

If he had known his little "good deed" oath to the old Druid would have come back to bite him in the arse, he would never have signed up. Scowling at her bleary outline, Draco once more noticed her giant head. "And what the hell is wrong with your head?"

There was another sputter of indignation and then one wanded hand shot up to claw at the massive head. Something fluid seemed to slip off and almost too suddenly Draco blinked and found himself facing a red faced Weasley with flying hair, pink cotton bra, threadbare bottoms, holding a knotted blue shirt in her fist and death in her eyes. But luckily, glaring at the air about two feet away from him

"You're being a total bastard, Harry!" Draco smirked an invisible thank you, but found his gaze stuck to her lightly glowing middle.

_And you are surprisingly not freckled, Weasley, _he replied silently, entranced by the very light sprinkle leading, like a crump trail, down her navel. How had he never known about _this_? he thought, one eyebrow slowly rising. A pleasant wave of lechery washed over him like an old friend.

Sparing a glance up to her furious face, Draco was momentarily at a loss for what to say.

"It's not my fault you decided to go for a turban look. I don't see how that makes me a bastard."

"Not that, you idiot! You put me in the bloody line of fire when we were getting away. I had to shield like a million curses, protecting your inconsiderate back. I can walk you know!"

"Yeah," he relied, deadpanned, "and and we needed to _run_."

"So you decided to drag me?"

"Um, actually, I do believe I carried you, Ginerva. No easy feat, that, either, since you don't exactly weigh a _stone_. Even without the turban."

Ginny flushed. "Like you could carry a stone."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Great, so we're resorting to cheap shots, now? 'Cause while we're at it: you're _fat _Weasley."

Ginny's eyes went wide and her hands shot around her middle. Draco couldn't hold back a cackle.

"And you have boney shoulders! Nearly impaled my spleen while you were running."

Draco's gasp, luckily, was one of muted horror. Glad for the invisibility he reached up to reassure himself of the falsehood of her words.

"And you called me Weasley, again. What's wrong with you tonight, Harry? Why are you being so cold?"

Draco stared up at her as if she had gone insane. "What's wrong with _me? _You come here, ruin my night, practically sign my papers out of this place and kick me, _kick me _like," he sputtered, still appalled,"like some kind of wild woman! And you're asking what's wrong with _me_?"

"Why do you sound like some douche from Slytherin? Or have you just changed that much since Cho happened?"

Draco eyebrows lifted at that. Well, well, some Gryffindor angst, was this? He decided to snoop.

"Not bitter, still, are you, _Gin? _" Draco tried hard to keep out the malice from his naturally malicious voice. He did not want to sound like "some douche from Slytherin". He knew the douches from Slytherin, and that was definitely an insult. Besides, his father had long ago taught him that digging dirt on people required tact._  
_

Visible hurt flashed across the small features of the half-nude girl before him, and she looked at his general direction as if she could not believe what she was hearing. Draco felt the now familiar, unfamiliar twinge in his stomach again.

"Er. I'm sorry, that wasn't fair. I didn't realise it was true." Draco shut his mouth and kicked himself again. The hurt look deepened on her features.

_What was that about tact?_

"_Because_," he blundered on, panicking, "I never thought that you wouldn't _know... _that, uh, how I really feel about you!" Momentary relief at having successfully walked through that sentence washed through and then leaked right out. Draco was acutely aware that he was fast treading into very perilous territory.

Ginny frowned. "What?"

"Um." Draco thought fast. _Why _was he so bad at this? Why couldn't he be as eloquent as he normally was, bullshitting out of his arse to every girl that passed by him. _Because you have never bullshat about someone _else's_ life, and never at two in the morning._ Draco smirked. _Oh yeah. _He usually had everything taken care of by two in the morning.

One defined, red brow lifted. "Um?"

Draco thought fast. If he were Potter what would he say? The claustrophobia of being cornered by the big-eyed disapproval of Weasley suddenly eked away, as a devious thought implanted itself in his mind.

If he was Potter...

Dispite the fact that she couldn't see him, Draco pinned her with his most earnest gaze, and whispered, "Look... Ginny. I think I'm in love with you, okay?"

_***_

If emotions could hiccup, Ginny's just belched.

_"WHAT?!" _

Ginny felt her face exhude heat. She almost expected the cool night air infront of her to get misted, but mocking her, it remained as clear as ever. One minute she had been feeling as fluttery as a strolling dragonfly on the eve of a rainstorm- the next she felt like she had just swallowed something slimey and positively unedible.

Ginny wished the ground would just open up and swallow her. Harry didn't love her. He couldn't love her. Sure, she had a crush on him for like _ever, _and she practically worshipped the ground he walked on, and she couldn't stop staring at him most of the time, and she had told Tom Riddle that she loved him, and written him her fair share of "Be my Valentine" poems. But he couldn't _love_ her! That was just _wrong. _

Especially, because now that the words were out, and her own reaction was actually becoming apparent, she realized that she definitely did not love him.

It was like watching Ron snogging all over again. Ginny felt like the little girl who always wished to be mommy and marry daddy, suddenly put into the mind-frame of a 20 year old, with all her wishes come true.

"Er... I thought you would like to hear that?"

"What? No! Ew. Harry, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean "ew", ew, but like ew. You're my Daddy!" she flinched, appalled-"No! I mean, _like _my dad. Er. Brother. You're like my brother. Not Daddy, I was just thinking, um, nevermind. I don't... uh... this is awkward."

There was an eerie silence that followed her incoherence.

"But, Ginny, I _reeally _love you."

Ginny felt her skin crawl."Um, I'm sure Harry, b-"

"And I was thinking, this Christmas, of asking you to become my wife." Though he sounded casual enough, there was something choked about his voice now. Ginny, now completely taken aback wondered if he was close to tears. _I'm making the Savior of the Wizarding World cry? _Ginny was mortified.

"Oh... oh?," she replied faintly. _What the hell? _She wasn't going to get _married. _Had the Chosen one finally gone _bonkers_? He clearly had, but her own brother was excited. Surely, they only humoured him because he was out of his mind. Surely the whole end-of-the war thing would set everything straight, but oblivious to the complete incredulity now mixed with a green-tinted nausea etching across her features, he continued, his voice strangely tight; "Yes, and we could live in a mansion, that I will build with _my bare hands_. You can come there _immediately _after graduatation. I'm sure W- Ron wouldn't mind." Pause. "Actually, I have talked to him about it, and he is very excited."

Despite herself, Ginny felt her eyes go round. She didn't want to break his heart, but the panic in her system suddenly threatened to implode. Ron was excited? Everyone knew? What was this nightmare?!

Something frightfully large lodged itself at the back of her throat. Oh, no, what was she supposed to do now? She couldn't exactly break the Boy Who Lived's _heart. _What if he lost his will to fight Voldemort because of her? What if he told Ron? _What if mom finds out!_ ?

Ginny's face turned, if possible, even redder. _I think I can safely say, that this is the worst night of my life. _

_Hermione! _The thought shot through her like an arrow. She had told Hermione about her infatuation and she had told them all that Ginny approved of the idea.

_Oh my god, I am arranged to marry a lunatic, and it's all my fault. And I'm not even 16 yet. _

Ginny gulped. If only he weren't invisible.

And then, he didn't really need to be visible, because cool snaking hands glided out of nowhere, around her rigid waist. Ginny squeaked in horror, but still had no idea what to say, when a hard lean body circled around her and then pressed against her from behind.

His musky fragrance swirled and Ginny felt positively lightheaded. Atleast he smelled nice. Ginny took a deep breath and let it out too-fast when the hand on her tummy began to move. A rough, sensuous finger circled her bellybutton and Ginny was hard pressed- literally- not to turn around and smack him in the invisible face. The insane words "married", "mansion", and "approve" kept spinning in her head.

"Harry..." she whispered, in an embarrassingly wavery voice. "You're being weird. Can you stop?"

"Stop what?" said a voice beyond the shadows. Ginny and the body behind her froze. She blinked. The hands around her immediately dropped, and Ginny spun around, and saw, from the darkness emerging the very visible form of Harry. For a couple of seconds, nothing made sense. "Harry? How did you-?"

A faint thump at the bottom of the marble stairs told Ginny all she needed to know. Something cold trickled into Ginny's stomach.

"Ginny? Why are you naked in the middle of nowhere?"

The newly receeded blood from her cheeks rushed back as Ginny turned to look at Harry, horror dawning on her. Harry wasn't inlove with her. Harry was there. And visible. ... _Then who the hell have I been talking to for the past hour?_

"Ginny?"

Why was she naked? She didn't know. _Oh my god, someone was just touching me, naked, and I don't even know who it was. I am soooo humiliated!_ Ginny tried to reply but found her throat completely closed up. Then she remembered the faux-Harry's choked voice and realized that it had not been tears, after all. The bastard had been _laughing _at her!

A surge of humiliated anger lashed through her system, and Ginny's eyes narrowed on the unassuming, and positively bewildered, if not bashful, Harry in front of her. With purposeful steps, Ginny strode forward, grabbed both sides of his collar, stepped in and took a giant whiff. Harry's eyes widened, expression scandalized, "What-!"

Ginny let go. Peppermint and grass. Of course.

"Harry," Ginny asked slowly, "Where is your invisibility cloak?"

Ginny watched a creeping blush spread over Harry's cheeks.

"Uh... I lost it?"

* * *

**Review Me Please! Anything that will help me along for the next chapter would be fabulous!**

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	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Really? Everytime?**

**Author's Note: Apologies for the late update- my life has been completely hectic of late, but I didn't for a moment forget about you beautiful people, and this, rather humble excuse of a "humor" fic. I did, however, have a lot of fun writing this chapter- it has wayyy more dialogue than I'm used to, but that is all about to change with the next few chapters, I hope. What is a Draco/Ginny fic without some witty repartee, after all..**

**Now for some much needed thank yous! **

**Emmalaya- **That's alot of pressure, lol. I really, really hope I don't disappoint!**  
FaithfulHPReader- **As always: :)**  
Meloro- **I'm sorry I never replied to your offer- I am really flattered that you thought of me despite my often horrendous spelling, lol, but I'm having a hard time updating this one fic, I don't think I would be very liked on a role-playing site. :(**  
fairychix26- **Lol! I remember when I first started reading fics, my Grandmother thought I had developed some kind of mental defect because I would be laughing for hours at a computer screen with no sound/movement on it. She still doesn't get it, I don't think.**  
superstarsvtn- **I know! I'm kind of considering having him do some more of it. Possibly, by causing bigger diasters than just provoking Ginny's sensibilities. What d'you think?**  
Purple Knife- **AW! I think I might love you. :)**  
Secret23- **it could have been updated five gajillion years ago, and I would still appreciate the review. :D I hope this chapter doesn't fall short of your appreciation. **  
**

Thanks everyone!

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**The One Where Communication is NOT The Way to Clarity**

_"Harry, where is your cloak?"_

_Silence.  
_

_"Uh. I ...lost it? _

_Ginny 's voice flattened, disbelieving. "You_ _lost it."_

_"I, yes." Harry stammered, but then struggling to gain ground in the situation, pressed: "Someone stole it. Look, Gin, that's why I'm glad to see you- have you seen anyone with it?"_

_"Of course not!" she retorted, panicking. Had he heard what had just happened? "They'd be invisible, wouldn't they?" _

_Harry, however, frowned, agitated by his own troubles. "So _you_ don't have it?"_

_"What? Why would you suspect me?" This show of unnecessary sensitivity was clearly too much, because Harry widened his eyes at her, exasperated. _

_"I was not suspecting you of anything!" he cried. "I was just hoping, since I saw you, that it was you and not...." He trailed off, shifty demeanor returning. _

_Ginny's eyes narrowed. "And _not _...?" _

_"Er. With someone else?__" unthinkingly, Harry took a step away from her.  
_

_"Like who?" Ginny asked, impatient. She really did need to know; if Harry had some clue who both their culprits was, then she could probably get on with her malicious plans of revenge faster.  
_

_"I don't know," he replied, suspiciously defensive. "It wouldn't be "lost" if I knew, would it?"_

Gah! _"How could you lose your own heirloom, Harry?! What were you doing when you lost it?"_

_"I was, ahem, at Dumbledor-"_

_"Oh, shove it Harry, no you weren't!"_

_Harry blinked, and then feigning indignation- "I was, too-!"_

_"Harry. Stuff it. Unless you're suggesting that bloody _Fawkes _stole the cloak, I'm going to need more honesty."_

_Harry stared at her, incredulous. He was becoming suspiciously aware that the air of defensive hostility he seemed unable to suppressed at her questions were mirrored back at him. "Honesty? What the hell, Gin? How do _you _know where I was and wasn't?"_

_Ginny felt her frustration ebb immediately, replaced by fluster. She could hardly admit to eavesdropping on his letter from the Headmaster. It was bad enough that some nut on the loose now knew about her history of unhealthy infatuation with Harry, Harry himself didn't need to know._

_"I didn't! I just-- guessed," she blurted before she could think, her sharp tone dwindling to uncertainty._

_It was Harry's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Really? And how did you know before I even asked that my cloak was missing- another mad guess?"_

_"No," she started, but then paused, turning red once more. Ginny found that there was no way she could relate any of the past few hours' events without furthering her ultimate humiliation as well as having to confess all her activities since the night of the Malfoy-emasculation. She ventured; "I just wondered since you're not wearing it while strolling the halls in the middle of the night." _

_Smooth._

_"Right. And may I ask why are _you_ strolling the halls in the middle of the night?"_

_'_Because I had an insane impulse to return Malfoy's wand. -Which, by the way, I stole when I bound and tried to drown him in the girl's bathroom last week,' _didn't sound like quite the appropriate answer she was looking for. In fact, having thought it so baldly, Ginny was rethinking the judgment of her actions, as well. Suffice to say that once more, after a series of repeated such tangents, Ginny decided that everything was Malfoy's fault. Regardless, trapped presently by the unrelenting gaze of Harry Potter, Ginny's mind thrashed. _

_"I was... looking for you," she said, finally. It was a true enough statement, Ginny hoped that the honesty would shine through. _

_"Of course," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Which is why you're _shirtless_?" __He did not sound too convinced. For a moment, Ginny delighted in this fact. Then-  
_

_Ginny glanced quickly down at herself and squeaked, unballing the shirt in her hand to hide her badly compromised modesty. "I..." _- was -being-chased-around-by-Filch-and-decided-to-disillusion-myself-with-some-else's-wand-and-had-some-malfunctioning,-so-I-had-to-use-a-shirt-to-cover-my-flamboyant-hair? _Ginny wondered if there was a spell that could help one throttle one's own thoughts. "...was feeling hot!" she stammered in what she hoped was an affronted, it's-none-of-your-business-what-a-lady-does tone. _

_"In November." Harry's voice was flat and his eyebrow rose higher. _Not a good sign. _Briefly, Ginny fantasized shaving it off. When had the questioning turned on her, anyways? _"_Unless you are suggesting that you're getting hot flashes as this age, _I'm_ going to need a bit more honesty," he mimed._

_Ginny's eyes narrowed. Oh was that how he was going to play it ,then? She read between the lines clearly- he was not going to tell her what he knew as long as she was holding back from him. The only difference being that what he knew concerned _her, _and anything she had to say had absolutely nothing to do with him! Well, that was fine with her. Noncooperation was part of the Weasley line. 'Rebels on Fire' their neighbors used to call them when they had first decided to build their unseemly Burrow (sadly, not even because of their fiery red hair, but because Mr Weasley had originally built the attic insanely high, inspired by muggle "high rises", in the middle of farm country and it had been hit by lightening, burning the entire structure down. But Ginny chose to disregard that story- she had not been born then, so therefore, it had not happened). She wasn't new to this game. _

_"So you're not going to tell me who stole your cloak." It wasn't a question._

_"Someone breached the Fat Lady and attacked Ron and Hermione. You need to get back to your dormitory, Ginny, it's not safe." And that_, _thought Ginny, deadpanned, wasn't an answer._

_She managed to do a fairly good imitation of a shocked gasp but forgot to ask "what happened", to which Harry gave her a strange look. Belated, Ginny tried to inject slightly more concern into her attitude. "What? Are they alright?"_

_Harry looked predictably relieved. "Yeah, it was just a stunning spell. Damn bastard, whoever it was must have been pretty sly- the Fat Lady swears she didn't see anyone come in."_

_Ginny swallowed. "And out?"_

_"She said she saw you, which was why I came looking for you. I thought maybe you had seen something and run after the culprit."_

_Quickly, Ginny realized that this was her chance. "Oh, yeah. I... saw someone. Well, not saw, because they were invisible, but-" she pursed her lips to look as wistful as possible- "I felt strange. Like this very odd _wrongness _in the air, you know?" Harry's face seemed to clear and he nodded deeply like he knew exactly, "and then I heard Ron scream-" she couldn't resist- "like a girl, and I got worried and came down, just in time to hear him jumping from the portrait hole. So I followed."_

_Somewhere in her recesses, Scarlet Fevah nodded her head in approval. Harry, for his part, seemed slightly more satisfied, although he was still frowning. Ginny wondered if he was feeling a 'wrongness in the air'. _"I thought you were looking for me?" he asked.

_Ginny felt trapped. __"I was." She found it very ironic that she was getting caught off her only true statement. "Since you weren't with Ron and them, I figured you were out here."_

_"And you somehow, mysteriously, _knew_ that I also wasn't with Dumbledore?"_

_Ginny paused. "Er."_

_Harry waited. Ginny felt her saliva turn to sand. "Yes?" she said. Harry exhaled loudly. "Ginny, I need to know if you saw something. Or heard, or felt or anything. And at least what direction they went."_

Oh I heard and felt, alright, _Ginny thought darkly, suddenly getting a phantom whiff of the miscreant's piquant scent. Like fresh car seats and chocolate, it had been. Surprisingly nice for someone she ought to hate. A haze of soft sweetness over a rough, tangy aroma. Belated, Ginny realized that she was salivating. Clearing her throat, she said: "__That would depend on _who _you think I might have heard or seen, in whatever direction."_

_"What?"_

_"If you tell me who stole the cloak, then I would know if I've seen or heard or felt them! Dammit, Harry, I need to know."_

_Harry sputtered. "Why do you think I would know!"_

_Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Because your voice just went three decibels higher, and you obviously suspect someone and aren't telling me who!__"_

_Harry cleared his throat while shooting emerald daggers at her. "My voice is fine," he snapped. "And I don't know why you are being so uncooperative, protecting that prick's arse-?"_

_"Which prick?"_

_Harry froze, eyes flitting from corner to corner nervously, as if he could not believe he had just let that slip. "The... person who attacked Ron and Hermione and stole my cloak!"_

_"Whom, you know the identity of?"_

_"I do not."_

_"How do you know it's the same person then?" Ginny wanted to scream. _

_"Because, how many people could be running around causing problems in the middle of the same night? Unless it was one of us." Ginny jumped guiltily but then realized that he was just trying to make a point._

_"Right."_

_"Can I at least know why you are not telling me whatever you saw?" And then, in a very classic Harry moment, his eyes darkened with concern: "Did he HURT you, Gin?"_

_Ginny immediately flushed. "What?! No!"_

_"Then why are you being so difficult?!" Harry scowled at her. _

_Ginny scowled back. "I'm being difficult? I told you I saw the guy running out of the common room. You're the difficult one!"_

_"So that's it... you just saw the guy tail, and nothing else?"_

_"So you have no suspicions of who it is?"_

_"No."_

_"Fine, then I didn't see anything else, either." _

_For a moment Harry looked like he might breath fire. Then sniffed really loudly, turning on his heel. "Fine." And walked off towards the staircase__. Ginny followed, tempted to get the last "fine," and feeling distinctly unaccomplished. Trying to ease the conversation she asked, "So what did you do out tonight, anyways?"_

_"What did _you _do out, tonight?" Harry shot back too fast. Ginny frowned. _

_"__Nothing," she mumbled, stung, and for the rest of the trip up to the swinging portrait Ginny didn't say anything. Whatever had happened to Harry and his cloak tonight, Ginny was willing to bet that it had been every bit as humiliating as what had happened to her. Clenching her jaw and curling one small fist, Ginny swore that whoever this new foe of hers was, he was going to get it, and he was going to get it good. _

***

The next morning, Draco felt as if he had had a sip of felix felicis and cast a cheering charm upon himself. He hid the invisibility cloak inside his last year's dress robes, which he knew nobody in Slytherin would touch now that it was outdated, and took a long, warm bath before anyone in the castle had woken up. Clean from the now nauseating memories that his cologne brought up in him, Draco proceeded to wrap the bottle on his dresser in a towel, to suppress its escaping fumes, and threw it into a bag, leaving the dungeons with purpose.

As he wandered down the corridors, the brilliant morning sunshine streamed in through the tall windows, lighting his step. Feeling the deliciously aching aftermaths of adrenal rush, Draco breathed the fresh air in deep, reveling in his lucky survival, and even sweeter revenge. As he thought about revenge, Draco's thoughts inevitably turned to the insane Ginger. The look on her face when she had realized that it had not been Potter but some random invisible stranger was enough to make Draco laugh out loud. Smirking widely, he let his mind wander back in more detail, reminiscing happily the genius of his quick wit.

Who else, after such a night, could have still come up with something so twisted, he self-marveled. _Only you, Malfoy, _he answered happily, feet barely touching the ground.

If only Potter had waited just a bit longer, and Draco had had the time to do something especially inappropriate and then gone off to hide somewhere while she had slapped- or better- cursed his unsuspecting Heroicness. But, alas, Draco sighed, as always, Potter had to make his entrance at the wrong time and ruin everything.

Well, not quite _everything_, Draco thought, patting his cloak pocket where a withered and folded parchment still lay tucked, with another self-assured grin.

As he passed by the bend of the circular Entrance area leading to the open Great Hall doors, Draco paused by the trash and placed the bag with the haphazardly wrapped perfume on the stone surface. He made to tip it into the magical void in the middle, but something held him back. It was barely used! his frivolous heart wailed. It felt like such a waste to throw away something so expensive and untouched. He wished there was someone reasonably likable that he needed to bribe- it would have made a perfect present.

There was a disturbance behind him, and Draco froze. Sneaking a quick glance back, he saw a group of Hufflepuffs pouring out of the little corridor that went towards the kitchens. Snatching his hand away, Draco put all thoughts of wasted commodities away and pretended to be straightening out his cloak. Not even taking a second to knock the erect jar over into the void, Draco quickened his steps to the Great Hall and to breakfast, dignity high on his mind. After all, it would not do to have a Malfoy be seen lingering by Trashcans.

As it happened, however, his worries were entirely wasted, for as Draco sauntered on towards the fresh aromas of breakfast, without looking back, one of the group of Hufflepuffs, being particularly nosy, paused by the upright bag at the lip of the trash to investigate. And when he discovered what a rare and swanky treasure lay within, he quickly pocketed it, and in so doing destined himself to serving Draco far better than any bribe ever might have.

_***_

Ginny woke up with a huge headache. It didn't help that it was already mid-day and she had delightfully missed two classes and had to scramble into her clothes, perform probably the world's worst mouth-cleansing charm and booked it out of the Gryffindor tower. The events of last night streamed through her mind, the echoing anger making her suspicious of every person she walked by, and glancing down at every other person's bag to see if the glitter of a shimmering cloak peaked out.

But just like his sneaky appearance and exit the night before, her new adversary proved to be ever-evasive. And that left Ginny peaky all through the day. By the time she had safely gotten to her class, she had already tripped over a dozen stairs, snapped at two second years- _those bastards always deserved the snapping they got_- for clogging up the corridors with their laid back, sauntering paces, and managed to get 5 points taken off for bursting into Charms late, and then kicking Zacharaia Smith in the shin for staring at Luna's slightly exposed thong.

"You know, Ginerva," he had said to her after class, "Sometimes I wonder at all the pent up anger inside you."

"Believe me, Smith, there is a a lot of pent of stuff inside you that I wonder about, too." She did not mention anything of how she had sworn to wage war against all wander eyes, feet and... other wandering things, of the male specimen against her sisters in sex. So with that- and after getting a good whiff of him and mentally calculating the tenor of his voice- she had left for lunch.

Her headache, as she entered the Great Hall, remained. Frowning into her fingers while trying to message her forehead, her eyes locked onto irritating greys. Clearing her frown immediately, Ginny plastered on the smuggest smile she could pull out of her furious heart and beamed at the snarky slytherin also making his way into the Hall. Her vague confidence that at least there was this part of the school were she was sure to have secured respect for herself lasted for a mere half a second, however, because imitating her, the Albino Ferret had an equally blinding smirk suddenly stretching his features. Ginny's smile dropped. What the hell was _he_ smirking about?

Mayfoy winked at her, and Ginny's scowl returned. Malfoy's smirk turned into a laugh. Ginny, determined to get the last word, suddenly got a nasty idea and rummaged through her pockets until she found a 10 inch hawthorn wand, pulling it out and waved it in his face. Glancing at the teachers' table, now in clear view, Malfoy's face instantaneously darkened, and just like that they both turned their separate ways.

"Why was the prat grinning for?" came a suspicious voice from her left. Ginny turned and she felt her scowl immediately turn into a grimace. It was Ron, and he had a sizable, square band-aid patched right over his left eyebrow. It made him look like he had a permanently sardonic expression, Ginny thought, but her guilt kept her from commenting.

"I don't know. Who knows what goes on inside a ferrets mind?" she shrugged, walking past the Hufflepuff table and plopping herself on the first vacant spot on the Gryffindor bench. From the corner of her eye she noticed Hannah Abbott breathing something in and getting all gooey-eyed while a small crowd formed around her.

"Yeah. Especially a _Death Eater _ferret," Ron replied vehemently, sitting down stiffly beside her. Ginny glanced at him quizzically. Ron's eyes were hawkishly narrowed, and he was scanning the hall with a vendetta writ expression that Ginny thought must have looked exactly like hers had, dashing down the hall all day.

"What's with you?" she asked. Ron's glaring eyes turned on her, and immediately she felt something inside her sink.

"I was attacked, Ginny," he said, a wistfully convinced look hardening his face. "Last night. And we think that this is it. This is the first attack, strategically targeted at Harry's closest friends, and that it is going to signal very trying times to come."

Ginny could not control the look of utter incredulity from crossing her expression. "The first-?" she stopped. "Who is we?" Dare she ask.

Ron looked like he thought she was slow. "Hermione and I. And probably Dumbledore, too, once we tell him, but anyways, that doesn't matter. The point is that we have to be extra careful about the Death Eaters in the school now, Gin. And that wanker, Malfoy, is our prime suspect. Harry has been suspecting him all year, but we- Hermione, _mainly_- ignored his warnings. But I reckon, after last night, that it's true."

Ginny glanced at the Slytherin table and unnervingly saw that the 'prime suspect' was still staring at her. Ginny felt an uncomfortable sense of self-consciousness wash through her. _Or maybe he's cross-eyed, and is actually staring at the girl across from him? _

Ginny scowled. She thought about bringing out the wand again but then got a better idea and raised her hand in a rude gesture. _Take that, you posh_ _ninnie._

Turning back to Ron, she asked, "What's true?"

"He is conspiring with his father to bring down the school," her brother announced with morbid satisfaction, completely failing to witness the interchange between his sister and her far-off tormentor. _Torment-ee, _she mentally corrected with a faint smirk, before Ron's words tumbled into her brain like ice water.

"What?! Are you crazy?"

Ron looked hurt. "If you must know, Hermione has also given her blessings to the idea. Wh-"

"Conspiracy. Not idea."

"-_Which,"_ Ron continued, as if she hadn't interrupted, "basically means that it's true. I don't know if you've noticed, Gin, but Hermione has never been wrong."

Ginny looked at him pityingly. "If only you remembered that every time your big head got in the way of your relationship."

Ron glared at her with all his single-eyebrowed might. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Ginny shook her head. "No. You don't know what _you're _talking about. You obviously just annoyed someone and they decided to have a go at you, when you're back was turned." It was TRUE.

"Exactly! When my back was turned- obviously the act of a Slytherin." Ginny almost winced. "And what other Slytherin do we know of that sneaks around where he's not wanted?"

She could only think of one. Ginny risked a quick glance at the rather doubtful suspect and saw him checking his hair against his spoon reflection and had to force herself to not roll her eyes. "Not Malfoy?"

Ron opened his mouth to retort but another voice from behind them suddenly interrupted. "What about Malfoy?"

Ginny turned her head around to catch one brief glimpse of Harry standing when a blurred image of Hermione zoomed past them, diving for the small space on the other side of Ron, just as Dean Thomas was preparing to lift his leg over the bench. Hermione landed with a muffled "oof"; Dean blinked in shock and stumbled backwards. Dropping her bag hastily, Hermione finally managed to right herself once more, ignoring Lavender- sitting beside the space next to Ron-'s scandalized looks and shot Dean an apologetic smile before turning around eagerly to face the two Weasleys. Behind them, Harry wavered where he stood for an instant before choosing to be wise, patting Dean on the shoulder, and circled around the bench to settle between a busy Lee Jordan and a noisy group of second years, across the table.

Just as Harry leaned forward to grab some pumpkin juice, Hermione asked again, "So, what about Malfoy?"

"I was just telling Ginny to be careful around Malfoy because he's planning on destroying Hogwarts and handing it over to the Death Eaters." For some reason, Harry blinked at that and suddenly looked like he had swallowed something week old. He let go of his class of juice immediately.

Ginny looked at Ron, doubtful. She wondered if the farce had really gone far enough and that she should just tell them that it had been her. _And how awesomely would that go, _Scarlet Fevah put in. Ignoring her alter ego completely, but chickening out, regardless, Ginny flatly intoned, "Because someone stunned you in your own, safeguarded common room?"

Ron frowned at her, now thoroughly convinced that she had developed some kind of thinking impediment. "Yes! Who else but a Gryffindor- _OR AN EVIL PERSON- _could get into the Gryffindor Common Room?'

Harry nodded his head, face pinched. Hermione looked thougtful. Ginny's mind raced, desperate. This was getting out of hand- why couldn't they just think of it as a foul prank? But before she could even pause to wonder, the answer came to her: because it was the Dream Team. And nothing as anticlimactic as a "foul prank" happened to the Dream Team. Scarlet Fevah shook her fist. "What about Sirius? He wasn't an evil person," she tried.

"It turned _out _that he wasn't, but he was still there to kill someone!"

That was a good point. Harry paled.

"But he had to attack the fat lady to get in. This person obviously didn't." Ginny had no idea where she was going with that one, but anything that threw them off their insane theories was good with her.

"More dangerous," Ron stated, like she had just proven him right.

"No... she's right. It was because they had the password," Hermione murmered, a thoughtful frown marring her features. Ginny wanted to throw her hands in the air in silent exasperation. _She's been here for two seconds and she already having an epiphany?!_

"Right," she said, encouragingly. "And they just changed the password last night, so it couldn't have leaked out for the "enemies" to obtain it!"

"No..." Hermione went on. "No, it couldn't have. And it's Bobotubur Pus, so Neville couldn't have forgotten and written it down somewhere, either," she added. Ginny did not like how her reasoning was fitting into another conspiracy. Especially one of Hermione's- Ron was not lying, she was rarely, if ever, wrong, and Ginny could really not afford to be found out at this point. Realizing the counterproductivity of her efforts, Ginny decided to just shut up.

"But, listen, so I spent the afternoon, er, interviewing pe-"

There was cough on Harry's side that suspiciously sounded like "interrogating". Hermione shot him a dirty look. "I have been _talking _to people, and nothing so far makes any sense. The password wasn't passed out to any boyfriends or friends in other houses. I asked the other paintings if they had seen anyone come into the common room around the time of the incident and they hadn't. And on top of that, the Fat Lady claims that nobody offered her a password except the usual people. Gryffindors."

Everyone went quiet at that. There was a vague insinuation in Hermione's voice that made Ginny stomach clamp. Looking around she caught sight of Harry's expression. Ginny could clearly see what he was thinking: If whoever had stolen his cloak had entered the common room, no one was bound to have seen them because they would have been invisible... but on the other had, the cloak did not give people the ability to walk through walls without the need to use doors, since they had not given a password... but that would mean that the entire thing was _not _Harry's fault for him to wallow in guilt about, and get motivated to hunt down the culprit that had stolen his cloak without seeming self-serving... so it must have been the cloak guy, but that would mean that Harry's fault was even greater than he had anticipated, since now someone else was going to be framed for the deed unless Harry confessed all and also gave out the name of the assailant without catching him himself.... Ginny watched as slowly Harry's eyes went from half-lidded to very wide, and she was forced to lock hers forward to keep them from rolling.

Hermione's face was keen and sharp-eyed, she was surveying the table suggestively up and down. Ginny quailed. She looked over at Ron. Unsurprisingly her brother's face looked blank for most of the silent moments, before, like an approaching dawn, it suddenly whitened and his eyes went wide, realization rushing into them.

After what felt like an eternity, Ron Gasped.

"Oh my God," he proclaimed. "There is a Death Eater in Gryffindor." Distantly, Ginny wondered since when her brother had taken on the voice of Doom, and if it was possible to sock it out of him. She knew he would make some sort of noise, but she hadn't actually expected him to suddenly forget their rather peripheral audience.

The table around them went deathly quiet. Ginny and Harry looked at each other with the same expressions of horrified trepidation. Hermione didn't say anything.

One by one heads turned towards their group, with varied expressions of befuddlement and suspicion.

"Ah! Hah!" Harry laughed, suddenly, looking around desperately, kicking Ron very hard under the chair.

"Ah ha ha ha!" Ginny joined, trying to drown out Ron's, "Ow, Harry, you kicked me!" The second year beside Harry was frowning at them and then glanced around at his friend, shrugging. "That is a good one," she went on in theartical tones, "where did you hear that one? Ha. Ha." The expectant silence turned into a distinctly annoyed one.

"I didn't-" Ron started. Ginny dug her elbow into his side as hard as she could. Ron shut up, with a pouty scowl on his face.

Someone across the bench coughed and slowly an uneasy murmer of conversation returned.

"You're such a moron, Ron!"

Ron opened his mouth to squwak, but Harry started nodding his head vigorously. Hermione was frowning. "Well, he's right."

Ron's indignation took on more conviction.

"Don't be absurd, Herm," Ginny intoned, trying to sound exasperated and not choke on her own words with effort. "That's just traitor-talk. I mean, a Gryffindor?!" The laugh she forced out next felt like acid in her throat. _I'm going straight to hell, _she thought. Turning her head to shoot another vile look at the reason behind all her angst, over on the Slytherin table, Ginny was surprised to find her vision blocked by the oncoming figure of Ernie Mcmillan, a sixth year from Hufflepuff, headed straight towards them. There was something wrong with his leg, Ginny noted, but not particularily caring, she quickly turned back around to shush the Golden Trio. "That Mcmillan chap is coming."

She was just preparing to turn back around to see what the boy wanted when like a brick wall the smell slammed into her senses.

Ginny's entire body went rigid.

"Hello, my friends," the unmistakably pompous male tones announced. Ginny exhaled really louding, as if something had punched her in the gut. The perfume spun around her and burned her treachea as suddenly flashes of the night before ran through her mind.

"Potter, Granger. Weasley."

Although her back was still towards the boy, Ginny felt the muscles of her face grow taunt.

_"Harry?"_

_"Weasley?"_

_"Did you just call me Weasley?"_

In her mind's eye, she felt herself re-experience the events of last night on fast-foreward: The running, the panic, Snapes towering figure, Filch's slimey hands... And then the heavy scent thickened, forming a cloud around her head, as a body pressed against her back-

As the visual projection of last nights events receeded, Ginny found her vision oddly tinted with red. Very slowly, Ginny turned around, blood singing with an anger she had forgotten since her entrance into to the Great Hall.

The mysterious bastard from last night was discovered at last.

Eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, Ginny's sight finally cleared enough for her to make out the boy's upright, portentous figure and realized that the protrusion on his leg was not his leg at all but a bulge in his cloak pocket.

_The invisibility cloak, _she observed, darkly. There was an insistent, uncomfortable pounding against her temples.

"I must say, personally, I have been very much missing the old club from last year. Hannah Abbott and I were just discussing it and we wondered if it would continue to be upheld this term?" he was asking, smiling with a malicious glint in his eye. _Come to revel in my humiliation. _Ginny's blood continued to pound unnaturally strongly.

"Er. The DA meetings?" Harry asked, haltingly. Apprehensive. As if he was afraid that the sly git would unveil all of what had put the Hero of the Wizarding World through.

Ginny seethed.

"Yes. Personally, I don't mind one bit, but we wondered if it would still be coordinated in a secretive fashion, now that the Headmaster's position has been restored." Evil smirk.

The bastard was taunting Harry about his _secret_ive cloak and meetings with Dumbledore! _Oh, _hell _no! _Ginny's ears roared. Her entire body was tensed, muscles coiled and trembling. Slowly Ginny got up from her seat. "...added an entirely new dimension to my knowledge about the Dark Arts -" _I'm bloody sure it did- _"and the Defence required against.... especially with the war to come...." Ginny stopped hearing anything but the rushing noise in her ears. She could feel the fire blazing through her veins, the overpowering smell of memory in her nose, and smooth, glidng fingers against her stomach... a sultry voice whispering mockingly in her ear, and the smell, intoxicating...

"...personally, thought Ginerva was spectacular-"

Something inside Ginny snapped. Time narrowed.

In less than a second she was on her feet, facing the son of a bitch, vaguely aware of the concerned glances of her friends, and the utter oblivion of her adversary, absorbed in his own monologue, and then she was standing and there was no one in front of her anymore. There was roar, a flash of movment, and something was hard against her knuckles, connecting and then spinning away, leaving a spreading pain- a cry, a yell, red air, elongated, bass voices-

"**_G...IIII....NNN....YYY....?"_**

There was thump as the boy landed seven feet away from her, the fire in her veins shot straight to her legs. Ernie turned around with a royally shocked expression, locked eyes with her- terror spread over his features, and Ginny lunged with a scream. She would show him! Bastard thought he could get away with _perving on her? _ARGH! The grand accumulation of all her humiliation had congealed together into scalding fury.

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**End Note:** **So? So? SO? Did you like it???? **

:)

**Review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I own not the godly work of fiction known as "Harry Potter", as I am mortal and literal-ly invalid. **

**Author's Note:** Hello all! This chapter is just a **SNEAK PEAK** of the full chapter, which is yet to come. I felt bad that it had been so long, but I am currently backpacking across some-of-Europe, and it's really hard focusing on a nice meaty chapter while trying to coordinate my basic survival needs. Harry Potter... or sleep under a roof- I know, it's a tough choice. Surprisingly, though, I have chosen Life... so, bare with me.

As it happens, however, I had this poor little bit written out since before I left, and I thought since I'm going to take so long, I'd just post this for you. -Just so you know I'm alive, and still planning on continuing it. And, of course, that I love you all even more than my elated ego, upon seeing new reviews. :D

PS. For those of you whose hopes are failing- I do, in fact, have a PLOT in mind, with twists and developments planned out. It's just a matter, now, of me sticking to them...

Enjoy.

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**Hidden in Pretty, Brown Sight**

If Draco Malfoy had uttered a rather unbecoming "wah" of faintness, he certainly did not notice. All he knew was that one moment he was sharing a very healthy, and frankly _warming, _ocular exchange of mutual dislike with the littlest Weasley, and the next, she was bone-rigid in her seat, fair rattling with terrible mutiny, and tripping over herself to, it seemed, get her hands around the poor Macmillan boy in a legendary Sirius Blackian fit.

How the universe had so suddenly taken a turn for the frighteningly unpredictable, Draco did not know.

Within the first three seconds, Draco found himself in his depressingly customary state of confusion once more. It seemed as if he had never displayed so many signs of mental retardation in his entire life, as he had just in the past week, since a certain Weasel had ramshackled his life. The development had severely taken its toll on his self-esteem, to say the least, and as a result, Draco now often found himself, very sadly, even further confused trying to figure out why he was always so confused. It did not help, either, that the actions of the feisty Weasel were rarely very clear to anyone, so he was bound to have been confused anyways- a state of being that, due to his previous perfect clarity of the world and its general laws, did not sit well with him, and confused him further. Consequently, the degree of confusion in Draco's life had suddenly gone from nonexistent to triple in a single leap and left him feeling very pessimistic about his psychological health.

He _had _thought the problem taken care of when he had lowered himself to his two nemeses- The PotHead, and Weaslette's- level, joining the nightly parade of low-lifers, and successfully gaining the upper hand , the previous night. But then, with one erratic swing of her mood, Ginny bloody Weasley had had to go and wreck all of it.

Which was why, four seconds after the development, Draco had frowned. Studying her sudden apoplectic expression, with the trembling fists, and the flying hair, Draco had sensed Danger.

Now, the beautiful thing about Danger was that it had very little to actually do with logic, and thinking, and all those higher, convoluted cognitive mechanisms which were usually required to figure Weasley's motives out. It was pure instinct; its basic premise, to help one survive. And as such, it also had the uncanny ability to reach the Right Choice much faster than the aforementioned method of _"thinking". _

And so it was that Weasley had suddenly flown out of her chair in a blur of magically elevated speed, and the whole hall had found the very high flying king of Pomp and Outdated Glory sprawled on his arse, and ready to scramble the hell away. Things truly had developed fast, and Draco's confused emotions had hit a cement wall of fear.

With this new, urgent sense of self-preservation running high on his bodily function, when Theodore Nott proclaimed, "She has gone insane," in an entirely collected and thought-you-should-know manner, it was all Draco could do not to turn around and gawk at him.

Insane? He thought he might sputter. Insane had nothing to do with it. No, no. Weasley had always been _insane. _But to publicly concentrate the great mass of her wild-flying, ever-directionless, the-world-should-burn-beneath-my-rage ire at a soul as innocent as a _hufflepuff- _Draco felt his very bones quake at the thought. It was, by the history of Hogwarts, a blasphemous act. And Draco could not imagine a single reason _why_.

Not that Draco held any particular interest in the harmonious continuity of the nature of Hogwarts, or, for that matter, the welfare of the Hufflepuff, as such.

No, as Draco's attention narrowed with the rest of the hall on the spectacle unfolding at the Gryffindor end of the hall, it was more himself, and the deeds of his very recent night-time escapade that he became concerned with.

Sure, at a very superficial level he enjoyed her obvious emotional unrest. Any discomfort to Weasley was a comfort to him, after all. The problem was, however, that the sentiment applied both ways. Any comfort to Ginny Weasley- as apparent by the mad gleam of power in her wide brown eyes- was sure to somehow come out of Draco's arse at some point soon. Draco knew these things, because after six years of losing to a winging scarred nut on the Quidditch pitch, that was the only justification within the realm of possibility.

_Bloody Gryffindors. Couldn't they be a thorn in someone else's side? _Draco thought, choosing to ignore the fact that as far as thorns went, there was no one who picked fights in the school more than himself.

Of course, for all that his mates' saw from his customary sardonic, if a little pale, countenance, Draco could not have been less surprised by the turn of events. Wisely choosing to maintain this dignified reputation, Draco refrained from turning towards Nott entirely, and kept his mouth shut.

Instead, in the space of time it took for Ginny Weasley to pounce on the sprawled sixth year- a scene that disturbed Draco at a very personal level- and made her streaking exit out the doors of the great hall, Draco came to three very successive conclusions.

First, closing his eyes, and carefully replacing his halfway unfolded napkin beside his plate (in case he should accidentally dropped it with fingers suddenly lost of nerves), Draco decided that it may theoretically be possible that he had just managed to do the unSlytherinable, and had very rash and stupidly, dug _himself_ a grave, currently residing at the bottom.

_Like a trembling sacrificial virgin on Father's birthday._

Disheartening though this revelation was, Draco found the bleak, figurative situation unfolding in his mind bleaken further, as he realized that not only was he standing alone, in the bottom of his own grave, which he had himself dug, but that he was also looking up and watching an ever approaching tide of fiery wind, coming to knock the mountain pile of dirt beside the grave over top of him and deign the task complete. The task being: his utter psychosomatic demise by Weasley.

--And, to make matters worse, Draco got the odd suspicion that an audience consisting of Potter, his gingery side kick and their bushy tailed she-cohort was also right in the irksome periphery.

Draco dropped the hovering fork with the perfectly sliced piece of beacon skewered on the tip, immediately. His stomach did a queasy retreat into his center.

Which was how Draco reached his second conclusion, which was, that just because he was clearly on the verge of being _screwed, _it did not necessarily mean that he was screwed. Sure, Weasley had gone insane, but really, what was insanity? Draco asked himself, attempting a touch of nonchalance.

_Insanity just means instability. And instability... is so overrated. They call Malcolm Baddock unstable, but he's still a dashing good fellow. _

He tried not to think of the fact that Baddock had recently taken to locking himself up in his room with one of the knight armors from the hall just outside the common room with a silk leash and what some witnesses swore to be a gimp mask.

Instead, _positive thinking!_ he reinforced.

Right.

Taking heart from this new turn of revelations, Draco decided that he liked this hopeful thinking phenomenon (once again, ignoring the fact that as far as mental dialogues went, this kind of airy positivity was definitely a Gryffindor thing), and continued this thread, as his eyes thoughtfully followed the streaking blurs of brown and rustic gold out the Great Hall doors.

He just had to avert the blame. Make damn sure that there was absolutely no way that Weasley could trace the incident back to him. Backpaddle and wipe out his track.

Yes... Draco thought hopefully, before suddenly adding, darkly: That, or, impairing the Weasel's mind so that she could not see it even if it was right under her nose.

Something tickled his mind. 

_...Right under her nose..._

He shook his head. But first he needed his wand. Which also happened to be with Weasley. Trying to squash the unrelenting squirming of unease in his stomach, Draco wracked his brain for the way out which he knew was there somewhere.

Alright, so what did he know? he tried. He knew that she had his wand.

...Pause.

He knew that she was insane.

_So that means.... _he inquired of his internal genius desperately.

That she would never give it back to him until she had another fit of rage and managed to split it into two?

_No, think positive!_

She would battle him for it and beat him, again?

Draco scowled.

...But then, something else occurred to him. He suddenly remembered her gloating smile frozen in her dainty little face as she had witnessed the glee he could barely repress earlier, upon entering the Hall. She had been confused for a moment, and Draco had feared that he had given himself away. But then, instead of charging at him like a heated rhino, she had brandished the wand like a torch of victory. Sure, it had stung his pride, and like hell, he wanted it back.... but... it seemed that it also kept her from ever suspecting him.

Draco's eyes lit up...

She was so sure that she had the upper hand that so long as he reminded her of that fact, she would never in a million years put him and the invisible vigilante together.

It was merely speculation, but something in Draco eased at the thought of it.

Of course! Her possession of his wand distracted her from all else. She could not imagine that he could do anything without his wand.

And you damn well needed a wand to steal the Chosen Douchebag's invisibility cloak.

It was convoluted, it was a far stretch, but it made sense to him. _The best place to hide is in plain view, _he thought. _I wonder who said that._

The only way of keeping Weasley's eyes averted from the truth, was to confront her face-to-face. And suddenly, conclusion number three simply seemed to fit naturally into place.

Now quite practiced at the art of denial, it did not even occur to Draco that under any normal circumstance, he would definitely have come to very different conclusions, and certainly not be so wont to seek close contact with his alleged nemesis. As it was, however, Draco felt a buzzing of excitement start at the base of his spine as an idea slowly bloomed inside his head.

Abruptly, Draco stood from his seat, and made to leave. The students in his immediate vicinity cast him puzzled glances.

"Draco?" they inquired, their voices sounding oddly elongated and far away.

"I have to go," muttered Draco, and without so much as a glance back to see the shadowed looks of suspicion dawning on his fellows' eyes, he had turned on his heel and stepped through the doors that his evil little Weasel had so recently escaped through.

He was going to rescue Ernie Macmillan.

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Thank you: **Jhinra** and **HotterParry**, your words to my writing are like the wind for plant sex. Thank you, thank you. Jhinra: yes, I am being modest, but maybe it was just _because _it was late at night. I mean I watched Pineapple express late at night, and literally, I had to pause and go to the washroom 4 times because I was laughing so hard. No weed needed. HotterParry, you have no idea how much I-ROCK. You should feel my thighs after all this walking. I'm like the fourth one in Fantastic Four. But prettier.

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	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer goes here ... and has gone for the past whatevermany chapters before this. So. I own nothing. I swear. I don't lie. Not about things like this. Because. I'm... religious. So, there I said it. They should really not make people repeat themselves to many times; even if it is the truth, you get numbed to it eventually, and what if you get a sudden, undeniable, evil impulse, and decide to make a mockery of legal copyrights, and authors, and ideas .. and those people with the big bucks, and you start admitting that J K Rowling is really your god, and by extention of you dutifully worshipping her for years on end, you now have the Right to share in her glories, and say that what's hers is yours, because in the Harry Potter universe, it is not "I" that triumphs, but "WE".**

**Author's note: Exams. We all hate 'em. I know I do. It is one of the only sentiments that reconnects me with this world, because it seems that everyone shares it with me. **

**But, ASIDE FROM THAT, I have to admit that I really don't want to upload this chapter. Mainly, because it is not even remotely complete. But, on the other hand, only when I put it up will I finish it off, so... I feel like we all know each other enough by this point that none of this is going to be much of a surprise to any of you... I am A.D.D, what can I say? But. There is more pervy Draco-ness, which I'm sure you all enjoy.**

**Cheers!**

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The Chase, and that's about all, really.

Later on, of course, Ginny would find it all very odd.

At the time, however, there had been far too much red anger blurring her judgment to notice much beyond the immediate two feet or so in front of her, and the unrest of a task neigh accomplished and then brutally interrupted by an irritating, too-resistant albino pest.

Later on, she would also realize how grateful she ought to be towards said pest. But, once again, at the time she had lacked any such humility, and all too soon found herself pinned on top of Malfoy, for the second time in too-short a while, and this time, not enjoying it in the least.

The way it had all started, of course: Ginny Weasley had been determined.

Under almost all circumstances, this was never a good thing, and this particularly fine day at Hogwarts had certainly been no exception. Particularly, if one concluded on behalf of poor Ernie Macmillan. Which, surprisingly, only Draco Malfoy had been doing, at that moment, not that Ginny had had any clue.

To complicate matters further, Draco Malfoy had _also _chosen this very day to exhibit worrying signs of determination. This added feature was particular cause for wonder, as it did not happen often. As a result, with the combination of potential plot enhancers, it all made for very interesting developments to come. And, the universe did not disappoint.

Ginny had exited the Great Hall in a livid state of mind, nostrils flared and jetting behind the fast moving scent of Ernie Macmillan, with vendetta high on her mind. She had been so angry, she had feared bursting into tears. Her head pounded; her feet rushed with adrenalin. She kept thinking, _I can not _believe _this; I can not believe _him_._

And really, she_ could_ not believe him. Even as she had punched him in the face; even as she had felt the tide of time slow around her, the realization hitting home, her body springing forward-. Even as she had chased him out the doors, squealing with fright, giving off wafts of sick memories for her to follow- Ginny could not believe that Ernie Macmillan had proven to be such a villain.

"I have not done anything!" his pitiful proclamations interrupted her thoughts.

Ginny could have almost believed _that_, if only the blood curdling stench of him did not assail her olfactory receptors still. Every time she breathed in, it called for Blood.

It was lucky for her that his musky perfume had caught her attention the night before, at all. Thinking about it now, however, threatened to drive her mortification to an absolute edge, since, along with noticing the particulars of his odor, there had also been far more concrete- and not to mention _less desirable-_ parts of him that she had been forced to take note of.

Watching the ungainly sixth year desperately sprinting ahead of her, now, Ginny could not help the shiver of revulsion that had nothing to do with her embarrassment.

"You haven't _done anything_? Oh, you are just vile! I don't suppose to a person like you, stealing an orphan's heirloom amounts to anything! Let's see if my foot up your arse will teach you any differently!"

"What?!" he replied, now seriously panting, as he took to steps three at a time. In a distant corner of her mind, Ginny was impressed by both their fitness. But then, she remembered that she had had practice, thinking of last night. A thought which inevitably brought back to mind, just the kind of practice he had had last night, as well.

Horrid scenes of blurring, moonlit corridors; towering Snape and Filch, and flying curses assailed her mind.

The world became a dark, dark place.

"Ginerva! I am begging you! Personally!" -Had she not known of his evil heart, she might almost have imagined the villain on the verge of tears. "At least. Tell me. What. I have. DONE!" he panted.

Ginny did not even think of replying. Her anger at the fact that he clearly taunted her, tripled, which further invigorated the fire in her legs. Ernie, perhaps finally realizing that his efforts to parley were only slowing him down- and somehow speeding her up- gave a shriek of hysteria, and redoubled his own efforts at flight.

They were rounding the bend towards the third floor bathroom. Ginny opened her mouth to tell him that he was far from his Hufflepuff sanctuary now, when-

"Weasley!"

Ginny was so shocked by this new voice that she halted. Ahead of her, despite himself, Macmillian, too, skittered to a stop.

From down the marble steps, face glowing a becoming shade of red with the exertion, followed Draco Malfoy, his long legs leaping over the shining marble three at a time. Ginny failed to be momentarily stunned by the resplendent scene.

"HELGA!" came a wail from behind. "There is two of them!"

"Malfoy," Ginny spoke over the Hufflepuff's voice. "What do you_ want_?"

Pant. "I have come- to- demand. MY WAND- back!"

Ginny was so taken aback, she actually forgot for a moment to be an insane, maniacal sort of person. "_Now_?"

Even Ernie seemed confused. "Does this mean, this insanity is OVER?" he called.

Which, naturally, was the wrong to thing to say. Ginny swiveled around, spurred back into action. "Only when you're ashes are blown to the four corners of the earth, you bastard!"

Ernie yelped in a most unbecoming manner. Malfoy called again, sounding oddly desperate.

"Weasley! My wand-!"

But both Ginny and Macmillian were off. There was a frustrated huff from behind, and Draco finally reached the last step, taking a pause of self-pity, and then, he too, was an active member of the chase.

"For your information, Weasley," he called, hoping against hope to have her fury soon redirected at himself. "The earth no longer has 'four corners', as disproven by the famous wizard Galileo-"

"Malfoy, your opinion in not wanted!" Ginny shot a look of, what she hoped was pure venom, behind her. Why was he f_ollowin_g her? She could not figure it out. And while normally, this would only trouble her a very small amount, the daunting fear of having others discover Macmillians offences towards her from last night struck a note of decided unease through her heart. She would _really _rather not add to the list of mockeries, Malfoy had accumulated over the years about her.

_This is going to be worse than the Valetine card, _Ginny confided with Scarlet Fevah.

"I think they're wanted!" Macmillian squeaked over his shoulder. Ginny could barely suppress the renewed guile she felt towards him. He _knew. _He was trying to use Malfoy's intrusion to discourage her from her vendetta.

_Think again, Macmillian, _Ginny thought darkly. One Malfoy would not be enough to dissuade her so easily. Despite the fact that she would would prefer him_ not being _witness to this, Ginny still believed that she had enough leverage over the cocky Slytherin, to allow the risk of him knowing one or two more of her embarrassments. Besides, knowing Hogwarts, the word was soon to be out anyways. The least she could do, was ensure she had an eye-witness for when she unleashed the word of how she took her revenge.

Surprisingly, Malfoy actually deigned the hufflepuff a reply. "That's because you are a pathetic _nerd,_ Macmillian," he informed him. To Ginny's extreme chagrin, explaining: "The person who originally disproved the flat earth theory was actually my revered ancestor, Anaxagoras."

"Malfoy! I'm really losing my patience," warned Ginny through gritted teeth. They were narrowing in on another bend. Ginny thought, if she would just incline herself sharply by its curve, and maybe ready for a tackle….

"I know, I tend to lose mine too at the indignity of it. Italians are always stealing the glory of the Greeks."

"Malfoy, _fuck off!_"

Draco could feel her speeding up that little bit more. His muscles were beginning to burn.

If he could just stall her before the turn.... Madly, Draco's mind raced for a way out. His mouth opened, but his mind was occupied elsewhere. "And that was. The other. Thing. Iwantedtodiscuss." Pant. "This. Profanity... thing is- really becoming-" She was closing in on the Hufflepuff, and a sharp bend was coming right ahead. "-Quite unladylike."

Belated, Draco mental map of Hogwarts, and his own situation in it finally clicked. A dawning frown settling over his face, Draco wondered if either of them realized what the bend quite abruptly led to, or if his little endeavor to save one innocent soul today would end in a spectacularly miserable fail, with two- well, one innocent, and the other pretty deserving, if Draco-said-so-himself- souls dead, when they stumbled around to find no staircase attached to their platform….

Ginny's temper snapped. Approaching the bend, but still a precious few yards from it, she risked whipping out her wand.

Malfoy opened his mouth to warn her-

-Blindly, she pointed it behind her and yelled "_Stupefy_!"

"You know, Ginerva, I have a wand, too!" Macmillan ventured in rasping tones from now, too close, in front of her.

In the distance, there was a high pitched shriek.

"AND?" growled Ginny.

The only answer she got back was a yelp and more panting.

And she had been so close. So close, she could have reached out and grabbed the badly panting boy by the back of his streaming robes. But she had tucked her arms by her side instead, gathering up the energy to her core, readying for a mighty leap, and one last tackle. The wall rounded quite abruptly. Ginny had leaned herself into it, preparing…

There was a yell just as Ginny let go the coil of withheld energy in a spring-. Something caught at the end of her robes, but she was still flying forward. And Ernie went stock still; she was going to grab him-

And the world had finally caught up with her blurred vision.

Everything seemed to reel around, and sight no longer blocked, Ginny saw what she had all along assumed to be another tunnel-like corridor opening into a spinning abyss of shifting staircases with Ernie flailing like a rooster in flight, at the very tip. Ginny's entire being did a withdrawal, but the amount of energy she had put into her pounce had been too much, and she was going to collide into him. Except, that the something which had caught at her robes, upon dashing around the misleading curve held taunt, tugging at her shoulders and holding her back for just long enough...

Just as a staircase swerved past, right on time, and Ernie, in a show of uncharacteristic athleticism leapt over the threshold, his feet connecting with the third step, and was swept away.

Ginny's momentary stop seemed to sway under the stress of her stretching robes, and Ginny's body continued forwards. She felt a scream building up in her throat, but the horror of the dark world meeting her kept every nerve in her body in suspense. Including her arms. Her robes, now desperately holding onto some divine force began to peel away from her shoulders, sliding down her arms as she continued to, in slow motion, lurched over the edge-.

"Weasley, MOVE!"

There was something about having the most hated voice in one's world rudely demanding one to choose life over death, that did wonders to the petrified nerves. Fingers scraping the sliding material of her sleeves, Ginny clutched on at the last moment, swinging her body around and _pulling_.

Draco saw what was about to happen a split second before she swung around, as he prepared to grab the back of her robes, and possibly get more leverage.

_Oh. Shit._

Draco's hand flung forwards at the same time as Ginny grabbed hold of her sleeves and turned around. Draco's hand was still in motion, when Ginny's eyes registered the sight before her, and body suspended at a dangerous angle, her mouth opened, but it was too late. They both watched in horror- and a touch of fascination, where Draco was concerned- as his hand fastened squarely around the center of her bosom, grabbing hold of robe, shirt and bra, and he _yanked. _

_*_

_*_

_*_

Of course, he had deserved the slap. Though she did not know it, he had the humility to realize that he had, in fact, enjoyed that, and was _still _enjoying it, so Draco obliged when the slap had come. He felt... charitable. Two lives saved- or not tragically ended- in the same day made Draco feel oddly endorphin-high. And the world had still held a surreal element of fuzzy colors, and general 80's sparkle effects, when he had watched the small Weasel fly towards him, thudding against his chest (his hand still clenched between her breasts), and then the world turn over, as he blissfully lost his balance, to have her land with a delightfully frustrated "oof" on top of him.

To be perfectly fair, he had almost welcomed it.

Not out of any peculiar masochistic delight, but because he had thought, once the slap came, he would be done with it. His guilt assuaged; her indignation spent, and they could move on to further things, like… her thanking him, for instance, or… her bursting into girlish tears over his manish torso, and perhaps even obliging to let him keep his hand there for a few blissful moments longer.

It was time someone besides stinking Potter got medals of valor, he had thought.

But the abuse had not stopped there.

Perhaps, he might not have been so surprised, had he known how Determined Ginny had been at the start of this episode. But, having no such dramatically ironic abilities, Draco watched with shock as her hand had come in for a second go.

And then another go.

And another.

"Uh. Weasley!" he had finally snapped, aggravated out of his blissful state. She paused to glare at him from her perch on his chest. "I think you are getting carried away."

He thought he saw one of her eyes twitch, which did not strike him as a particularly agreeable sign of her mood, and then he was slapped again. "Take your freaking hands off me, Malfoy!" she screamed in his face. There were twin spots of pink on each of her cheeks.

"Oh," Draco allowed. "That." With regret, he let his fingers unclench and the bunched up material between her breasts moved to smooth itself in a tantalizingly slow manner.

_Slap._

"Stop staring!"

Draco blinked, looking up at her flushed face once more.

"Didn't I _stupefy _you?" she asked. Hoping, perhaps, that he would know why her aim was so lacking.

"No. Although I do believe you _stupefy_ed Mrs. Norris." He tried smirking, but unfortunately Weaslette was too struck to enjoy it.

"That bloody cat is everywhere..." she muttered, and Draco waited patiently, vieing for the return of her lowly attentions, and secretly feeling like whore in the back of his mind.

_I should not be vieing for a Weasels attentions. I am part _Veela_!_

_"_And speaking of being everywhere," she turned on him, with that furious look that he was beginning to feel to accustomed to. _Hello Weasel, _he greeted. "Why is it that whenever anyone is in any kind of a hurry, you are always in the way, Malfoy? Why?"

Draco thought about this for a moment, before realizing that she had meant it as a rhetorical question. He raised a superior brow, in response. There was a huff from Weasley, and Draco found himself pleased with the fact that he could still exude such haughty self-assurance to miff her, in his unbecoming situation.

Still; all natural graces aside, the situation had to be rectified immediately. Not out of any particular preferance on his part. But in case she got the wrong idea... Or the right one. Mentally batting, he shushed this line of thought immediately.

"And why is it, Weasley, that you don't seem to grasp, that though you may rub on me all you like, my breed of wizard is far superior to your tattered kind, and I cannot lie with you."

For a small instant, he imagined her headbutting him in a famous show of boorish Weasley-ness. Instead, pulling her face up close to his, with eyes narrowed for intimidation, she replied coolly, "You're doing a great job of preventing that so far."

Unfortunately, for all her intent at intimidation, all this did was bring his attention even more acutely towards her delightful cleavage, now undeniably straining against his chest. Trying to ignore the part of him that insisted that he might actually be starting to enjoy this too much, though, he could not help but feel that she had a point. Why _had _he come all this way, again? Right, to save the Hufflepuff. Well, at least one mission was accomplished nicely today.

_I meant to do this, therefore I also meant to be in this position, _he reasoned with his weeping ego, hiding in some invisible corner. _So, really, this is actually good. According to plan. According to skill and cunning. _

After all, who else but him had managed to get under the little Weasel twice in a row?

Overtaken by a sudden fit of coughing, Draco heard Ginny lose patience above him. "Dammit Malfoy, I'm not even that pissed anymore." To prove her point, she leaned her small, painfully pointy elbow on his sternum, to support herself up.

Swallowing a yelp, Draco choked, "Am I supposed to express regret?"

"No. You should be wailing in your humiliation. Which you're also not doing." The Weasel sounded grumpy. "Nothing is going right." Then, with a dawning tone of accusation- "And it's all your fault!"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Oh, of course," he muttered. "I really don't see what you are so flustered about, Weasel. I was _only _saving your life."

Weasel looked uncertain for a moment. She looked like she was debating just how angry she was at him at this point, and just how much humility she was willing to show.

"I think your 'favor' failed quite miserably, Malfoy. So, excuse me for not gushing with gratitude."

Trying not to be too apparent about his disappointment, Draco allowed that at least she had considered the gratitude. Mouth twisting in a sardonic smile, he drawled, "So you mean, I am _not _going to be hailed by the Weasel clan and worshipped as their god?"

Weasley looked at him, as if he was a particularily sour potion she had to been forced to drink. "No, Malfoy. Try not to cry too loud in bed tonight."

Draco scoffed. "I assure you, _Weaslette, _some of us have better things to do."

Weasley snorted in a most unladylike manner. "Yeah? Like what, Malfoy? Drawing up hymns of Praise for the Dark Lord?"

"No," Draco bit coldly, "_That_ is for larger gatherings at the Mansion."

Draco did not have the pleasure of seeing her response, however, as Ronald Weasley chose that exact moment to make his entrance upon the scene. The Weaslette froze in the act of lifting herself up, and found herself staring at her brother while straddling Draco.

"GIN- _MALFOY?!" _came his first sputtering words, washing away the last of the glitter from Draco's briefly endorphinized world.-----

* * *

Such an abrupt ending... but I really can't write anymore right now.

**MAYBE A REVIEW OR TWO WOULD SPUR ME TO WORK A LITTLE FASTER, THOUGH. :D ...Nov. 27/ 09: Aside from reviews, if I could please get a survey of which quirks u wanted elaborated... I'm having a hard time segueing into my next bit, and I don't know what to do. So.. more Draco cloak stuff? more Mrs. Norris? more Dumbledore? WHAT IS IT ABOUT THIS RIDONKULOUS FIC THAT YOU PEOPLE LIKE?!? lol. thanks!  
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